


Not Again!?

by NirCele



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Post-Lord of the Rings, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-03-21 19:39:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 50,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3703239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NirCele/pseuds/NirCele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How many times will Elladan and Elrohir ride into Imladris, one or both of them wounded? Lord Elrond has lost count . . . but this time is different. Elladan is shot by a poisoned arrow, and when he gets to Imladris, he seems to be healing fine. Something is coming though, something that will change the Peredhils' lives forever . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Poisoned Arrow and the Elleth

The relative silence of the Greenwood was broken by the soft plopping of horse hooves and a low teasing voice.

"Daro, Elladan!" came a mirthful cry. "Do not tell her of that story! It was your idea to go over the mountain pass that day!" Three horses came into view, trotting along the Old Forest Road. Two bore tall elven males, alike in appearance. Both were slender and fair-faced, with dark hair flowing over their shoulders and down to their waists; and twinkling grey eyes. The other horse had a young elleth seated on it, her light carrot hair swept back in a long braid. She was regarding both of her companions with grey eyes stern, but holding a small bit of mirth. That was what kept the two going on with their jokes.

"Must you speak so much? The whispers of the trees are enough for me. I do not need to be regaled with your adventures and foolish tales." Her horse snorted, seeming to agree with her.

"You wound me, my lady," said one of the male elves, pressing a hand over his heart. "We wish only to keep you from becoming bored."

The maiden shook her head. "We are not a dozen leagues from my King Thranduil's halls, and yet you have exhausted my patience. I wish to listen to the trees; they will warn me of any danger approaching, unlike you two!"

"We are not that loud!" exclaimed the other elf. He shook his head mock ruefully. "You are lucky to have us, Lady Ioreth. The path to Imladris is wrought with danger of many sorts. If not for us, you could find yourself trapped in a deep hole with no way out!"

"I find that hard to believe," the aforementioned elf snorted, very un-ladylike. They rode in silence for a minute more, then she glanced over at the pair with a slightly confused look. "I am embarrassed to say, but I have forgotten who is who. Will you kindly reintroduce yourselves?"

They exchanged an amused look. "Fear not, lady," said one. "Even our father cannot tell us apart when we wear matching tunics, which we only do when we want to confuse others. This only happened to be a day we did that."

"You can differentiate us by our weapons," the other ellon suggested. "I am Elrohir, and I have the twin swords besides my bow."

"I am Elladan, and I have the single sword," said the first. He patted the unstrung bow strapped to his saddlebags. "I also have a bow, but I’m not as good with it.

"Ah," said Ioreth, nodding. "Thank you; that will help." They lapsed into silence again, the two ellons occasionally looking at each other and seeming to have silent conversations. After another league or so had been traversed, Elladan leaned over to his brother and whispered, "I will tell her of the time you tangled yourself in a harness the first time Ada got you to hook up a horse to a wagon."

Elrohir smirked. "If you do, I will tell of your little 'adventure' after your horse ran away when the yrch attacked us in Emyn Muil."

The older twin frowned and sat back on his horse in defeat. "Fine. What to break the tedium then?"

"A horse race?" his brother suggested mischievously.

"Absolutely not," Elladan said firmly. "The last time we did that, I was 'mysteriously' dumped into the Enchanted River and slept for three days."

"Ah, ah," Elrohir protested, releasing his loose grip on the horse's reins to waggle a finger, "now that was an accident."

"I have only your word for that."

"As you keep reminding me."

"What are you talking about now?" sighed Ioreth, reluctantly breaking her whispered monologue with her dun mare, and glancing up at the twins.

"Us?" asked the sons of Elrond in unison.

"We were talking about -"

"What to talk about," Elrohir interrupted, finishing his brother's sentence.

The elleth shook her head. "You need not talk of anything. I am quite happy listening to the sound of nature around us."

"So are we," said Elladan impishly, "but we find our voices much more interesting."

"You can listen to the trees anytime," Elrohir added. "But you cannot listen to us whenever you wish. Only on a journey when -”

"I should have waited to travel to Imladris," Ioreth muttered, tuning them out. "I knew it would be a bad idea to travel with the twin troublemakers. Never should have listened to Ada. 'It will be fun,' he said! 'And you will get to see your sister sooner. Does she not need help with her new elfling?'" She made a face. Though the twins were somewhat annoying, she had to admit they had a certain . . . appeal to them. They were certainly entertaining.

"Don't you think we should speed it up a little?" She heard Elrohir ask. "We would get home sooner."

"No dirweg!" Elladan suddenly exclaimed, flinging a hand up. "I hear something from afar," he added in a lower voice.

The other two strained their ears, and Ioreth looked to the trees. They were whispering in unease; she should have been listening to them earlier. "Something is coming," she warned, repeating what the trees were telling her.

"Yrch," Elrohir snarled. "They are coming this way."

"We are still in Greenwood!" Ioreth exclaimed. "How did they get here without the Guard being alerted?"

"Times are changing," Elladan said, readying his weapons. His twin did the same.

"Will we attack them?" came Ioreth's anxious voice again. The brothers stopped and looked at her.

Elrohir had paused the stringing of his bow. "How are we to keep her safe?" he inquired of Elladan in a low voice so the elleth could not hear him. "She is not a warrior, and does not even know how to wield a bow."

"I shall hide in the trees," Ioreth said, over-hearing them. He hadn't been quiet enough. "They will keep me safe."

"There are not very many orcs," Elladan said. "We will keep them from getting to you." He glanced up into the overhanging branches. "Yes, they will protect you. Climb quickly. Send your horse into the forest, away from the orcs."

"Brother," Elrohir cried, spinning his horse at the sight of something crashing through the trees. "Alae!"

"Climb!" Elladan barked. "Drego!"

Ioreth obeyed immediately, scrambling up the branches with the litheness of a Woodland elf. The tree she chose whispered comfort to her while adjusting its branches for her. Her horse, obeying a former hissed command from Elladan, spun and cantered into the trees.

"Orc-filth!" Elladan spat as three of the yrch lurched into the clearing; their grotesque faces were matted with filth and dried blood. Their beady red eyes caught sight of the elves preparing to fight and they sneered.

"Elf-scum," the one in the lead snarled, fangs protruding.

"Charge!" Elrohir cried, and his horse leapt forward without urging. Elladan's stallion thundered forward too, his rider swinging a long slender elven blade. Elrohir fired a single arrow, catching one of the orcs in the forehead, then swung the bow over his shoulder, whipping out his double swords. In a smooth motion, he swept the sharp blades across another orc's chest, bringing foul black blood bubbling across the creature's breastplate. Elladan had already disposed of the remaining orc, and the twins pulled their horses up sharply.

"Are there more?" Elrohir asked, glancing into the trees.

"Ego!" They heard from behind them.

"Lady Ioreth!" Elladan exclaimed, spinning his horse. The twins caught sight of the elleth being pulled from the frantic grasps of the tree by two leering orcs. She was struggling futilely, her strawberry blond hair in disarray. Another orc had a loaded crossbow and was starting for the twins.

"Leithio nín!" Ioreth shrieked, kicking at the two orcs that were yanking her from the tree. The tree she had been abiding in was frenzied, flailing its limbs to try and help the Woodland elf. 

"Stay still, pushdug," snarled one in Black Speech. The other pulled her up against its revolting chest and pressed a dagger to her white throat. Elladan and Elrohir, who had started their horses forward to help the elleth, pulled back on their reins. 

"Stop, elves," the third one, holding a crossbow, ordered the twins. They pulled their horses to a halt and exchanged glances that would have seemed emotionless to anyone else, but were full of worry, particularly Elrohir’s. How could they kill the orcs without getting Ioreth hurt?

"Av-'osto," Elrohir reassured the wide-eyed elleth, keeping his swords pointed at the three orcs.

"Edraith enni," she pleaded, visibly trembling.

"Shut your filthy ilid mouth," the orc holding her growled.

Somewhere deep in Ioreth's heart, she found a small flame of courage. Her captor's words lit it higher, and her eyes flashed angrily. "Pedin i phith in aníron, a nin ú-cheniathagir," she snapped, lifting her right foot and slamming it down fiercely on the orc's foot. At the same time, the enraged tree above them slammed a low-hanging branch into its forehead, knocking the orc backward as it released its grasp on the elleth's slender neck. She gasped for air and lunged forward immediately, rolling so the other two orcs couldn't get her.

"Ha!" cried Elladan, urging his horse forward toward the orc with the crossbow. Elrohir was right beside him, spinning his twin swords with a fierce yell. Fear flashed in the third orc's eyes, but he raised his crossbow and fired off the single bolt. The sharp arrow flew through the air and pierced Elladan's left shoulder. He let out a cry of pain, but still hit the orc with the sword in his right hand, decapitating it.

"El!" called Elrohir, feeling a stab of pain in his shoulder and hearing his twin's cry. With a spin of his left sword, he killed the remaining orc and sent his corpse spinning to join his dead comrades. He made sure there were no more orcs in the surrounding trees, and then rushed to Elladan, who had stopped his horse and was clutching his shoulder with a grimace. Ioreth was helping him down from his horse, a worried look on her face. "The trees sense no more yrch around," she told them both.

"A crossbow bolt?" Elrohir inquired, rubbing his own shoulder as his twin's pain echoed through their shared fae.

"Yes." Elladan's voice was tight with pain, but he had forced his face into an impassive look. "Do not worry, this has happened many times before," he assured Ioreth, whose face had paled upon seeing the bloody wound in his shoulder when Elrohir carefully pulled his brother's tunic down.

She just nodded, wincing in sympathy. "I should go fetch my horse."

"You do that," Elrohir said, concentrating on his brother's wound. As the elleth hurried away, Elrohir tugged the rest of the tunic out of the way. "Hold still!" he scolded when Elladan flinched at his prodding of the wound.

"Nîdh!" complained Elladan.

"I know it hurts," said Elrohir. "I'm going to have to pull the arrow out. Just be glad it wasn't a longbow arrow, or the barbed edges would rip the skin when I pull it out."

"Ugh," Elladan muttered. "Will you just get it out?"

His twin raised dark eyebrows. "Be still, this is going to hurt," he said, grasping the tip of the bolt protruding out of his shoulder. His fingers slipped for a moment on the bloody metal, then he gave a swift yank and the arrow slid free. Elladan hissed in a breath, then sighed. "That hurt less than I thought it would."

"You've probably gotten used to all the wounds inflicted on you over the years," Elrohir said wryly, tossing the bloody crossbow bolt to the side and examining the wound again. "We'll need to wrap it. Luckily Ada has gotten used to us being hurt, and insists on packing bandages with us whenever we go anywhere."

"Yes, lucky indeed," Elladan snorted.

Elrohir retrieved the bandages from his horse's pack and wrapped them tightly around his twin's shoulder, tucking a few athelas leaves over the wound. "I certainly hope the arrow was not poisoned."

"As do I." Elladan rubbed his shoulder gingerly, then dropped his hand. "Ada would have a fit if we rode into Imladris and I had poison running through my veins. I suppose it is a good thing we hadn't promised not to get hurt on this trip."

"It was you that said, 'After all, what harm could come just of a visit to the Greenwood?'" Elrohir reminded his brother, repacking the medical supplies. He had just finished when Ioreth came back into the clearing, her horse walking behind her. She studiously ignored the dead orcs lying in a heap and went over to the twins. "Will your shoulder be well?" she asked anxiously of Elladan.

"Of course," he said, but she noticed that he avoided moving the said shoulder. "I've sustained many worse wounds. It will heal within a few days -"

"As long as it is not poisoned," Elrohir added, leading his and his twin's horse over to the two. "If it is, we will find out soon, but the athelas leaves should help it." He shot the orc corpses a look full of loathing. “We’ll have to burn the bodies.”


	2. Poison

Elrohir pulled his horse up and glanced at the rapidly declining sun. "We should begin to look for a place to spend the night," he told his companions. They both nodded. A few minutes later, after traveling further through the forest, they found a small clearing beside a tiny trickle of a stream. Elladan watered their horses, and Elrohir set up the camp with Ioreth helping.

"No fire?" Elladan asked disappointedly, seeing the bare ground.

"No," Elrohir said. "We can't risk more orcs coming upon us. However, we do have lembas bread!" Here he waggled his eyebrows dramatically, but Elladan shook his head. "I'm actually not that hungry."

Elrohir frowned. "You're always hungry -"

"So are you," his twin retorted, but Elrohir continued, "- have you been feeling nauseous?"

"Maybe," Elladan reluctantly admitted.

"Let me see the arrow wound," Elrohir ordered, starting for his brother. Elladan knew he would be persistent until he got what he wanted, so he sighed and let his brother peel the bandages off his shoulder.

Elrohir pulled the athelas leaves out of the way and stared at his brother's shoulder for a moment.

"What is it?" Elladan asked; he had turned his head and was watching two of their horses wrestle over a carrot Ioreth was feeding them.

"The arrow was poisoned," Elrohir said matter-of-factly. His twin gave him a brief glance before returning his gaze to the pretty elleth and the horses. "Well, that isn't good, I assume?"

"It depends on what type of poison was on the crossbow bolt," Elrohir said grimly. "It could kill you within a few days, or it might take a week."

Elladan shook his head. "We're only a day from Imladris. I'm sure Ada can heal this once we get there."

"Yes, that is so." Elrohir started wrapping the wound back up, but replaced the athelas leaves with fresh ones. "Just tell me if you feel faint or light-headed."

"Very well." Elladan tugged his tunic back up with his right hand, wincing at the pull on his wound, then re-laced the ties on his tunic. "I'll take the first watch."

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

Elrohir woke suddenly, his eyes focusing on his surroundings. The edge of the sky was faintly pink; the sun was coming up. Why had he woken? The elf rolled out of his cloak and stood to his feet lightly, glancing around the clearing. Why had Elladan not woken him for the second watch? Elrohir looked over and spied Ioreth bundled up in her green cloak, seated on a high tree branch, her eyes glazed over and staring off into the distance. She was obviously asleep, but Elladan was nowhere in sight. Her silky hair was somewhat tangled, falling out of the braids she had put it in last night, and her cheeks flushed.

Since it was apparently morning, Elrohir rolled up the blanket he had lain on during the night and placed it with his saddlebags, then went to look for his brother. He could feel his shoulder throbbing, a reminder that his twin had been shot by that . . . yrch filth. He could feel the bond with his twin tugging him toward the stream they were near, and he went that way, his feet making no noise on the soft ground.

Elrohir found Elladan crouched tirelessly next to the small trickle of water, his dark-haired head bowed, and a slight grimace on his face. "Elladan?"

The elf's head flew up, and he smiled lightly at his brother. "Ai, I hadn't noticed you."

"So I see." Elrohir crouched down next to him. "How is your shoulder?"

"Ú-iston," Elladan admitted. "I'm too afraid to look at it, but it hurts badly." He didn't tell his brother that it was fine; they were too in tune with each other to let something like that slip.

"Let me check." Elrohir unwrapped the bandages and examined the wound, shaking his head. "It's getting swollen. We must hurry to Imladris; Ada has the supplies we don't to fix it." After re-bandaging his brother's shoulder, Elrohir stood and started back to their campsite. "You should have woken me for my watch," he called over his shoulder.

"I decided to let you sleep," Elladan said. His head lowered again briefly. "And I wasn't that tired." His brother didn't hear that last remark, but Elladan got up and followed him, ignoring the throbbing pain in his shoulder. Ten minutes later, the elves had eaten some lembas for breakfast and mounted up, continuing on their way to Imladris.

"Do you know how long it will be until we are there?" Ioreth inquired of the twins as she rebraided her hair while riding her mare.

"Almost two dozen leagues," Elrohir said. "It will almost be the eve meal when we get to Imladris. I hope your legs are not sore?" he asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

The elleth rolled her eyes. "Thank you for worrying, but I will be fine. I rode many times when in the Greenwood, and my riding skills are up to par, I assure you."

"Good to know." Elrohir glanced over at his twin, who was sitting stiffly on his horse. "Elladan, how is your shoulder now?"

"It is fine," his twin lied, knowing he could get away with it now that they had an audience.

"Of course it is," Elrohir muttered. He forced a smile. "Then I shall entertain the Lady Ioreth with a tale or two. Maybe about the other time you were shot with a poisoned arrow?" He waited for his brother to give a snappy comeback, but when none came, he frowned. "Well?

"Go ahead."

"Fine. I will." Elrohir paused a moment longer, then shrugged. Ioreth had just finished her braid and swung it over her shoulder when Elrohir started his story. She decided to listen; the trees had been left behind a little while ago, and there was nothing else to do anyway.

"It was about three decades ago that this happened. Somehow this band of orcs - it was about two dozen, as I recall - had managed to follow us from a scouting mission near Dol Guldur. One of them got within two hundred yards before it shot at us. It hit Elladan's horse, but we managed to get it into a spot where we were safe. We were at a draw - we could only shoot at the orcs, but they were too smart to get close enough. We stayed there for about four days, surviving on lembas and the occasional small prey that wandered into our hiding spot, until a hunting party from Lothlórien was going past and they were attacked by the orcs. We saw the fight from where we were, so we went out to help, but Elladan and I had to share my horse, as his had died from its wound.

"In the middle of the fray, Elladan went to help a warrior that was pinned between two orcs. While fending off one's blows, the other one shot him in the back with a shortbow arrow." Elladan shook his head mock-ruefully. "I had to go rescue him and the ellon he had been helping. We managed to kill the rest of the orcs with the Lothlórien elves' help, and then we tended to our wounded. I wasn't worried about Elladan, of course; I knew he would survive -"

"That's not how I recall it," Elladan suddenly interrupted. Elrohir's gaze snapped to him; he was a bit apprehensive to see that his brother's complexion was paler than usual. That was to be expected with poison wounds, though. As soon as they got to Imladris, their Ada could fix everything, like he did every time. "As I remember, you were extremely distressed at the fact that I had been wounded yet again. You thought I would die."

Elrohir frowned, but with a slight smirk at the edge. "Hey, who's telling this story?"

"That's a good question."

Elrohir blinked at his twin, then rolled his eyes. "That's your response? Really?"

The other elf just shook his head and returned his attention's to the horse he was riding. Ioreth looked from one brother to the other, and then shrugged. "What happened - I mean, how was Elladan healed that time? You were so far from Imladris."

"Oh, our grandmother happened to be in the party of elves traveling. She was going to Imladris herself for some important meeting with Ada." Elrohir sighed dramatically. "That was the only time I can remember that she was all worried and flustered over something. She didn't even take the time to 'look ahead' and see if he would survive; she just spent most of her energy healing everyone who was hurt - Elladan, of course, got special treatment." He winked at Elladan, but his twin didn't notice, seeming to be staring into the distance.

"Your grandmother?" Ioreth inquired, confused. She didn't know much of their family history.

"Yes, the Lady of Lórien. Galadriel," Elrohir clarified. "I don't blame you for not making the connection. It's not as if we look anything alike." He seemed to find that amusing, snickering under his breath.

"Ah." The elleth nodded. "I see." She glanced up and her gaze sharpened. "Are those the Misty Mountains?"

"They are indeed," Elrohir said. He glanced at her curiously. "You have never seen them before?"

"No," she shook her head. "I've stayed in Greenwood for my whole life." She hesitated. "The only reason I'm leaving now is because my sister married an ellon from Imladris, and I'm going to visit her." The elleth's face broke into a beautiful smile. "She just had a little elfling – a boy, and I'm going to help her."

Elrohir grinned. "Well, your first time to Imladris! Wonderful! I am sure you will enjoy your trip! How long are you staying?"

"I don't know," Ioreth admitted. "I suppose until my sister is fine on her own."

"That sounds -" Elrohir suddenly cut himself off, glancing over at his brother with a worried look on his face. "El?"

"Hm?" The elf looked up from his apparent studying of the ground beside his horse. The skin around his grey eyes was tight with pain.

"Are you feeling at all feverish?"

"Maybe . . . a little." Elladan shrugged, then winced. "There is nothing you could do to alleviate it, so just ignore me." He relaxed the reins and his horse broke into a smooth lope. "We need to hurry to get past the mountains; there are rumors of a goblin uprising." He caught Ioreth's concerned look and gave her a weak smile. "Do not worry; we know a fast way through the mountains."

"That we do," Elrohir said, looking like he was trying visibly to be cheerful, yet Ioreth could tell that his brother's condition was affecting him. She nodded. "Then we shall hurry; Elladan, we need to get to Imladris so your father can heal you." This was one time she was regretting not taking the time to go down the path of a healer instead of a seamstress and gardener. Of course, if Elrohir – son of the famed healer Lord Elrond – decided that he couldn't heal his brother, who would she be to assume she could?

"Correct," Elladan muttered. "But I shall be fine until then. It will only take a few hours to go through the mountains if we take our trail, then we will be at Imladris soon." He gave his brother a look Ioreth couldn't decipher; probably some type of twin code. Elrohir replied with a quirk of his eyebrows, and Elladan shook his head. After another few weird exchanges, Elladan turned his attention back to the trail and Elrohir said to Ioreth, "Hiril vuin, I'm going to go ahead and find the path, and to make sure there are no . . . disreputable characters ahead."

"Like goblins?" Ioreth asked weakly. She didn't even want to think about it.

Elrohir was given a shake of the head by his twin, and he smiled thinly. "Possibly. I'll be back within the hour." And with that, he nudged his horse forward and they vanished up the rocky trail. Ioreth glanced cautiously a few times at the elder twin – she could tell them apart more easily now, since they had told her which weapons they preferred – and was worried when his face paled at his horse, light-footed though it was, taking a large step as it moved up the path.

Deciding she definitely did not want him to lose consciousness, Ioreth decided to ask him some questions, now that Elrohir wasn't here. Elladan had actually seemed more of the kind that would dominate a conversation, actually. "Lord Elladan?" she queried.

Elladan fought back a snort. He couldn't even remember the last time someone had called him that – oh, he was technically an Elf lord, but no one appeared to think of him as one. "Please, call me Elladan." He was determined to make good of the short time he would have, even though he was wounded, and he would try his best to make her think him charming. Before he could say anything, however, she asked a question.

"Very well, I will. So . . . Elrohir, what is he like?"

Elladan raised an eyebrow; if Ioreth had ever met Lord Elrond before, she would have recognized the gesture as his. "What is he like? Hm, well . . . that's an interesting question. One that might take me a while to answer. Are you ready to listen to me talk about the more boring of the Peredhil twins?"

Very serious, Ioreth gave him a stern look. "He seemed very interesting earlier."

Was she scolding him? My, this was an interesting elleth. Very bold, as well. Too bad he didn't feel like he was about to scream from the constant pounding in his shoulder. If he didn't know any better, he would think some animal had climbed inside the wound and was dancing a jig excitedly.

"Where to start . . ?" mused Elladan. Talking would take his mind off the pain, and he decided to start telling her about Elrohir by telling her one of his favorite stories about him. He took a deep breath and began. "We were about twenty years old . . ."


	3. Apologies and Healing

"Daro!"

Elladan and Elrohir halted their horses, Ioreth stopping also. The call had come from the trees alongside them; they had crossed the mountains a few hours ago and were at the borders of Imladris. Elladan had grown increasingly pale, but waved off any worried comments from his brother or the elleth traveling with them. He didn't tell them, but the poison was advancing far more rapidly than any other wound he had suffered before. His shoulder was throbbing with each heartbeat, and he could feel icy tendrils slowly pumping their way to his heart. But even worse, he could barely move his left arm now, and his head was spinning. His vision was affected too; the forest around them was spinning and he could barely see his brother in front of him.

Elladan did not want his twin to know how badly hurt he was, so he had suppressed their bond in order for Elrohir not to feel the same pain he was. He knew that Elrohir had noticed, but didn't mention it - yet.

At the call for a halt coming from the trees, Elladan glanced to the side and immediately wished he hadn't. He felt nausea churning in his stomach at only that slight movement, and a slight ache started behind his eyes, the onset of a headache. Unconsciousness pulled at him, and he struggled to stay upright on his horse. It wouldn't bode well to let Ioreth or his brother know how badly the poison was affecting him. He would spare them worry until they reached Imladris, where the twins' father would quickly heal him. There was no need to worry them unless he had to. Elladan's stallion Gael shifted sideways slightly to aid his rider from falling. Elladan rubbed the horse in thanks, then returned his attention to the Elven guard that had just stepped out of the woods.

"Ai, mellon!" Elrohir exclaimed upon seeing the elf.

The border guard scanned their faces, then clasped his right hand over his heart and bowed swiftly. "My lords! And lady," he added upon seeing Ioreth. "Forgive me; I knew not who it was."

"No matter," Elrohir said. He turned his gaze on his twin, who seemed to be staring off into the distance, and glanced back at the guard. "We must hurry to the Healing Halls. Elladan is wounded."

The elf nodded, stepping back. "Pass, my lords. Go with haste!"

"Hannon le," Elrohir thanked him and they continued. Ioreth looked back over her shoulder at where the border guard had vanished into the trees again. "Who was that?"

"A border guard," said Elrohir. "We are nearing Imladris, we should be there in less than an hour." He was looking with growing concern at Elladan, but was managing to mask his worry from Ioreth. "El?" he said in a whisper. With an effort, his twin turned his eyes over to him. Elrohir was shocked to see that the white around his black irises were blood red. He could feel their bond pulsing in the back of his mind, but he knew that Elladan was hiding the pain he felt, trying to protect his younger brother. "Elladan," he hissed. "State the symptoms, we can discover the poison if we know them. It will help Ada create the antidote."

Elladan wasn't fooled. He knew his brother wasn't lying; he wanted to find what the poison was, but he also wanted to get Elladan to tell him everything that was hurting. Elladan decided to tone down the pain he was feeling so his brother wouldn't be needlessly worried. "Slight headache, arm hurts. A little bit of nausea."

"Is that all?"

"Just about," Elladan muttered. He really hated lying to his brother. Elrohir looked like he was going to say something, but sighed and shook his head. They continued in silence for the next half hour.

Ioreth suddenly let out a gasp. Elrohir looked at her, raising his eyebrows. She caught his inquisitive look and smiled. "I've never been to Imladris before - it's beautiful!" She waved her hand at the scene that had just unfolded before them. Beautiful waterfalls cascaded down the sides of the hills, bridges connecting buildings, and the lush trees dotting the hillsides and grass.

"It is beautiful," Elrohir agreed, but he seemed distracting, casting his gaze over at his twin every few moments.

There was nothing keeping Elladan on his horse but sheer willpower now. Blackness was rippling at the corner of his eyes and the small headache from earlier had developed into a pounding that felt like it was ripping his head apart. His sharp elven senses were almost nil - his horse reins felt like sticks in his grasp and he heard nothing but a high-pitched keening sound that seemed to come from everywhere. His left arm felt like it was on fire, the pain burning down his arm to his fingertips and stretching across his chest. The only thing keeping him conscious was the reassuring presence of his twin nearby, but he could barely sense their bond through his haze. Another wave a pain swept over him, and this time, he couldn't stop the small moan that made it past his lips.

Elrohir's head snapped back to his twin and he vaulted from his horse, going to him immediately. Ioreth just blinked at the elf's sudden movement. "Elladan!" the ellon cried, peering up into his brother's face.

Elladan felt his resolve giving way under the barrage of intense pain. He could feel his twin right next to him, below him . . . he would be safe. Nothing could harm him when his brother was by his side. With that last thought, Elladan let his mind fade away into the fuzzy black of unconsciousness.

"No!" Elrohir caught his brother as he slumped sideways, the horse shifting so he wouldn't fall. In a swift leap, Elrohir jumped onto the horse behind his brother and pulled his identical twin back against his chest securely. "Noro!" He jabbed the horse's side with his heels, any thoughts of the elleth that had traveled with them fleeing his mind. The twins' father would have already been alerted; he might have been told that one of them was hurt, but he would be waiting for them.

The elven horse sensed the twin's urgency and increased its speed, hooves thundering on the bridge it had just lunged onto. Elrohir was extremely alarmed. The poison from the orc's arrow had to be very potent indeed to affect his brother like this already. He could feel their bond as strong as ever, and Elladan's pain from the wound pulsed through it, even though he had tried to stifle it. His control over the bond had slipped when he fell unconscious.

Elrohir looked anxiously ahead over his twin's shoulder, hoping to see his father in the courtyard waiting for them. Up ahead, he caught a glimpse of golden hair, flashing as the elf caught sight of them. The horse skidded to a halt in the courtyard, and Elrohir caught Elladan as he started to slip from the sudden stop.

"Elrohir!" exclaimed the golden-haired elf, hurrying toward them. It was Glorfindel, his fair face concerned. "What happened?"

"Poisoned arrow," Elrohir said grimly, letting the Elf Lord carefully pull his brother off the horse. He swung his leg over the back off the horse and landed lightly next to them, then scooped up Elladan in his own arms and rushed toward the Healing Halls. "Fetch Ada!" he called over his shoulder at Glorfindel, who had shooed the horse toward the stables.

"I will!" Glorfindel agreed, then turned and hurried toward the Herb Depository, where he knew Lord Elrond would be.

Meanwhile, Elrohir had made his way to the Healing Halls, flying past other elves, who gave the unconscious bundle in his arms concerned looks. He flew into an empty room and placed his twin on a bed, not bothering to pull the sheets aside. Elladan's arms fell limply to his side, his green cloak a start contrast to the white cot. Elrohir was dismayed to find that his eyes had fluttered shut; it was proof of the poison taking more of a hold on him. He started to pull his brother's weapons from his body since they would be in the way while he was healed.

A few moments later, Lord Elrond burst into the room, his brow drawn with worry and dark hair flying behind him. He deciphered the scene immediately and hurried to the twins' side.

"Ada!" cried Elrohir, relieved. He could feel the burden of taking care of his older brother slip as Elrond took charge. "What happened?"

"Orc attack, poisoned arrow," Elrohir said quickly. His father nodded. "Get my herbs and bandages, make haste!"

Elrohir flew out of the room and headed for the Herb Depository. He found the supplies he wanted easily and bolted back to the Healing Halls. Running back into the room with his twin and father, he found Elladan still unconscious, but now stripped of his tunic. Elrond was laying wet rags across his stomach and forehead, avoiding the inflamed wound on his shoulder for now. "He has a fever," the Elf Lord told Elrohir grimly as he accepted the herbs. "Unwrap the bandages."

Elrohir did so, and as he pulled the last bloody cloth off, was shocked to find that his brother's wound was swollen, the skin turning black around the edges. The blood seeping out of the wound was a dark red, almost black. "Ada," he said worriedly. "What is this?"

Elrond gave the wound a calculated look. "How long ago was he wounded?" he asked.

"Yesterday morn," his son said. "It is a strange poison; I have never seen these symptoms before."

"We will treat it like the other yrch poison," Elrond decided, laying out a few herbs and pristine cloths. "Help me clean it."

Ten minutes later, Elladan lay on the cot, his black hair spread out around him like a thundercloud. His shoulder was rewrapped, with new athelas leaves tucked under the clean bandages. Elrond had forced an herbal mixture down his eldest son's throat, one that would help him heal faster. The rest was left up to his elven healing ability. "That's all we can do for now," Elrond said finally, stepping back from his son's side and pulling up a bedsheet around his bare torso. He sighed and washed his hands from the water in a basin by the bed, glancing over at Elrohir.

The younger twin was standing next to Elladan, holding his hand and whispering something unintelligible in his brother's ear. Elrond didn't want to interrupt, but he cleared his throat to catch his attention. Elrohir's head snapped up and he gave his father a curious look. "Yes?"

"I heard you were coming back; the guard told me," Elrond said. He raised an eyebrow; he had had plenty of practice in hiding his worry whenever his sons rode into Imladris seriously wounded. "Were there not three of you traveling?"

"Oh!" Guilt became evident on Elrohir's face. The worry for his brother was still at the forefront of his mind, but he couldn't believe he had forgotten about their traveling companion. "Lady Ioreth! She fled my mind!"

"She has a sister here, does she not?" Elrond asked. He most certainly did not blame his son for forgetting in his worry. He placed the remaining herbs into a pouch at his waist and threw the bloody bandages into a bin by the door.

"She is visiting her," Elrohir agreed. He dropped his head in his hands with exasperation at his forgetfulness. "I must go offer my apologies for leaving her at the entrance here." He cast an anxious glance at his father. "Will you tell me when Elladan awakes?"

Elrond nodded. "But I must talk to you after you have made up with Ioreth. This poison is new . . . I need to know all of the symptoms," and here he shot the unconscious Elladan a strange look, "and I do not want to discuss such sensitive subjects here. Meet me in my office in a half hour, please."

Elrohir nodded his agreement, murmured something in his twin's ear, then dashed out the door.

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

" . . . and a headache," Elrohir concluded. He had successfully named all of the symptoms his twin had experience while poisoned, and Elrond was quickly writing them down. Elrohir had apologized profusely to Ioreth for abandoning her, but she had not been offended; she knew how badly Elladan was injured and certainly did not hold it against Elrohir for going straight to the Healing Halls. Now Elrohir was in his father's office, right after popping in and checking on Elladan once more. He had been relieved to see that Glorfindel was watching over his twin for the moment. Their bond niggled at the back of his mind, reminding him constantly that his twin was still unconscious, and healing.

"Are you sure that is all?" Elrond confirmed, and at his son's nod, capped his quill and placed it down on the desk. He folded the parchment he had been writing on and set it to the side, then stood up and walked around the desk to Elrohir, placing his hand on the elf's shoulder. "Elrohir." He looked up, and remorse was evident in the back of his eyes. "It wasn't your - " Elrond started.

"It was my fault!" Elrohir burst out, anticipating what his father was about to say and pulling away from his touch. "I should have seen the orcs coming earlier - he wouldn't have gotten hurt! And when they tried to pull Ioreth down, I could have shot them; I had a bow! If I had gotten to them first, El wouldn't -"

"Elrohir!" Elrond finally interrupted. His son, cut off, ducked his head. "Do not blame yourself! Elladan does not; I know that for a fact. If you were the one that had gotten hurt - "

"I should have been the one that got hurt," Elrohir spat under his breath. Elrond chose not to comment and continued, "If you were the one that had gotten hurt, would you let Elladan take the blame?"

Elrohir sighed, accepting defeat for now. "No."

"Then do not place the fault on yourself." Elrond put his hand on his son's shoulder again, and this time, he let him. "Now, why don't you go see to your brother? I'm sure you want to leave," he added with a slight smile. "I will join you in a few minutes."

The younger twin nodded and left the office, his father turning back to his desk. Elrohir shut the door behind him and then slumped against the wall of the hallway, sighing. He rubbed a hand over his face and through his hair. "I wish -" he cut himself off, then shook his head and straightened up again, starting for the Healing Halls where his brother lay healing.


	4. Back to Mischief

Elladan woke to a faint pounding in his ears. Either there was an annoying dwarf inside his head, hammering away with wild abandon, or he had been force-fed one of his father's foul concoctions. He would bet on the latter. He let his eyes flicker open and stared at the ceiling above him, but not really seeing it. He was assessing his injuries, something he did every time he woke from being injured. The only things he felt was the aftereffects of a headache, and his shoulder twinged with pain, reminding him that he had been shot . . . yesterday? The day before? He realized that he didn't know what day it was, and let his head flop sideways to see Elrohir in a chair next to him. His twin was sound asleep, his eyes glazed over, and his left arm was resting on Elladan's chest, as if to reassure him while unconscious.

Elladan turned his head to the opposite side to find a basin of water on his right. He carefully slid his brother's arm off his stomach, sitting up. His arm complained, sending tendrils of heat towards his chest, and he stopped, then slid backwards and leaned against the head of the bed, and let out a sigh. Glancing at the sleeping Elrohir again, an idea came over him, and he smirked, reaching with his right hand to pick up the bowl of water. In a swift movement, he flung the contents of the basin at his twin brother, who woke up with a start, spluttering.

"It was Elladan's fault!" Elrohir exclaimed, shooting upright and coming out of his memory dream of former pranks. He blinked, realizing where he was, and felt water trickling off his face and dripping down his dark hair. Turning a scowl on the person who would dare wake him like that, he was startled to find Elladan sitting up in his bed with a grin on his face. "El!"

"How was your sleep, little brother?" Elladan queried politely, still smirking.

Elrohir just lunged forward and wrapped his arms around him. "You're awake!" Elladan winced, but returned the hug. After a moment, Elrohir pulled back and studied his twin's face. "How do you feel?"

"Pretty good, actually." Elladan was a little surprised. He usually felt like an oliphaunt had trampled him after waking from a poison wound. "How long was I out?"

"Three days." Elrohir looked like he wanted to say something else, but stopped. Elladan scowled at him. "Were you beside this bed the whole time?"

"No!" protested Elrohir. He grinned. "I left a few times. The elleth who traveled with us, Ioreth, came to visit you a few times. We talked. Ada also made me go get some more herbs to shove down your throat. You really are strong when you're unconscious and fevered, you know that?"

"So are you."

The twins sat in silence for a while longer, just staring at each other. Elrohir finally broke the silence, leaping to his feet. "I'm going to go tell them you're awake!"

"I'm coming too." Elladan kicked the bed covers aside and started to swing his legs over the side of the bed, but his brother stopped him. "No, you're going to stay here until Ada says you can get up." He pushed Elladan back on the bed. "Back in a few minutes!" And he dashed out the door, dark hair flying.

Elladan snorted. Did his brother really think he would stay here? The sons of Elrond were notoriously known for being bad patients, and this was a good example. He swung his legs over the bed again and stood to his feet. For a moment, the room spun wildly around him, and he wavered, but then it evened out. He held his left arm stiffly to his side, glancing around for something to hold it. Spying a stack of bandages on the same table that held the now-empty basin, he selected a long piece and somewhat awkwardly tied it around his neck, supporting his wounded shoulder.

With a sigh of satisfaction, Elladan went over to the door and peered out for any sign of his brother, father, or any other healer that would hinder his progress. Seeing no one, he edged along the hallway until he got to a side door. Ducking out onto an outside walkway, he hurried, smirking, to his usual chambers. Elladan never liked being cooped up in the Healing Halls while Elrohir got to gloat about his lack of injuries. Well . . . that only happened once, and it was because Elladan had 'accidentally' fallen into a nearby pond and swallowed some water. The twins' father had made him stay lying down for two days while waiting for an infection from the filthy water to show itself. When it never did, he let Elladan out, but the whole time, Elrohir had been lording it over his twin brother, rubbing in the fact about his lack of balance.

Elladan grinned at his escape. Usually he was stopped in the halls by his father, but this time he had apparently been busy, and now he was free! . . . Elladan froze suddenly as he caught sight of a dark-haired elf walking toward him, his head buried in a stack of parchments. Elladan looked around frantically. There was nowhere to hide; he was right in the middle of a path that had nothing but open ground around it. He slowly continued walking, hoping the Chief Counselor wouldn't notice him, that maybe he was too involved in his papers to see a patient escaping.

But no. He had to lift his head right before Elladan passed him. The dark-haired ellon's eyes narrowed in on Elladan, flickering to his make-shift sling, then up to his face. "Elladan?"

There would be no fooling him this time. Elladan sighed. "Well met, Erestor."

The adviser squared the papers in his hand and snapped upright. "I believe you are supposed to be in the Healing Halls right now."

"Who, me?" Elladan flattened his right hand over his chest, going for the innocent look he had perfected.

Erestor wasn't fooled. He had been the victim of the sons of Elrond too many times to count - sometimes an unwilling accomplice in aiding their escape from other victims, or having been pranked himself. And as their tutor when they were younger, the sweet naive look didn't work on him. "Yes, you. I don't recall your father telling me that you were healed." He waved his hand at Elladan, the usual stern frown on his face. "Back to the Healing Halls. Now, or I will find Lord Elrond and tell him you have escaped."

Elladan let out a disgruntled sigh and trudged back to the room he had been in, Erestor following behind to make sure the twin did as he was told. As soon as Elladan plopped back down on the bed, mindful of his shoulder, Erestor nodded in satisfaction and left, returning to his papers.

"Why?" Elladan moaned dramatically, falling back on his bed. His hair fanned out around him. "Why did it have to be Erestor who found me? Why not Glorfindel, or even Lindir? They would have let me go!"

"No, they would not have," came a firm voice from the doorway. Elladan sat up to see his father standing there with Elrohir coming in beside him. "Hello, Ada. Little brother."

Elrohir ignored the ribbing and sat down on the bed beside Elladan. Elrond continued what he had been saying, "I gave them firm instructions to bring you back if they saw you. The poison on the arrow you were shot with was one I've never seen before. We need to keep a careful watch on you for any new symptoms that might come up."

The twins exchanged looks; Elladan's was disgusted, while Elrohir had a smug smile on his face. Elladan frowned at his twin, who just smirked wider. "You are not going to gloat," ordered Elladan, then turned to his father. "Adar, couldn't El just watch me very carefully, and I can get up and walk around? I don't want to be stuck in here all the time."

"I never said you couldn't walk around," Elrond corrected. "But I want you to come to me right away if you experience anything unusual, and tell your brother."

"He has a headache," Elrohir piped up annoyingly. Elladan jabbed him with his right elbow. "Shut up, El."

"Well, you do."

"It doesn't matter!"

"A headache could -"

"Never mind," Elrond interrupted before it could devolve into a full-blown argument. "Just drink this tea," he produced a steaming cup seemingly from nowhere and handed it to Elladan, "and you should be fine. Then you can go do . . . whatever it is you two do. No tussling!" he added when Elrohir started to say something.

The twins both adopted horrified looks. "Tussling, Ada!"

"No!"

"We haven't done that since we were - "

" - little elflings!" The two frowned at each other when they had completed the sentence. "Stop doing that," Elladan whispered to his twin. "It's annoying, especially when we're not doing it on purpose."

"It just happens," said Elrohir, keeping his voice low. "You know that."

"And no pranks on Glorfindel," Elrond ordered, walking out of the room as soon as Elladan had drained the cup of tea. He, of course, tested it first to make sure there were no sleeping herbs in it.

"We won't!" Elrohir called after their father, assuming a responsible expression. As soon as the twins knew he was out of sight, they looked at each other and broke out in laughter.

Elladan clambered to his feet, snickering. "I can't believe he said that!"

"No, no, we won't play any pranks on Glorfindel, but what about everyone else?" Scheming looks were exchanged. "Erestor or Lindir first?"

"Erestor. I owe him for making me come back in here.

""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

"How long do you think it'll be until he comes out?"

"Ten minutes, at the most."

"That's too long to wait!"

"Do you want to see what happens, or not?"

"Yes."

"Then shh."

"There he is!"

"Hold still!"

"Back up, he might see us."

"Ooh, he's almost there . . ."

"Come on, a little closer . . ."

BAM! A shriek of surprise coupled with the sounds of papers fluttering through the air sent the mischievous twins into hysterics. They stifled their laughter quickly though, ducking back around the pillars of a tall library to hide from an shocked and incensed Chief Counselor who was lying on his backside on the stone steps leading out of the library.

"Did you see his face?"

"Awesome!"

"He's going to kill us -"

"- But it was worth it!"

Elladan and Elrohir had triumphant grins on their face, and peeked back around the stone pillars they were hiding behind. Erestor was still lying on the steps, a furious look on his face as he saw what had caused him to slip. They could see him take in a deep breath, then gather up the papers that had scattered around him. Another elf was hurrying toward him, her pale face shocked. She helped him to his feet, dusting him off. "My lord, what happened?"

Erestor brushed back wild strands of midnight hair and pointed accusingly at the ground. "Ice happened."

The elleth looked down at the ground in confusion. There was indeed a patch of slick ice placed right on the front step where someone would easily fall. "But . . . how could ice get there? It's barely the end of summer. Oh." Her expression changed, and she glared around her, apparently looking for someone. "Lord Elrond's sons are back, aren't they?"

"Yes, they are." Erestor stacked his papers and tucked them under his arm, a grim expression on his face. "And I am going to find them and kill them."

"That's our cue to leave," Elladan announced to his brother, and they both hurried away, chuckling under their breath.

"Did you hear his squeal?" Elrohir snorted, then copied the sound his father's adviser had made when he fell. "Whaa-eee!" His imitation was almost perfect, and he and his brother cracked up again. Elladan leaned against the wall of the building they were next to, gasping for breath. "I will treasure the look on his face forever."

Elrohir let out another round of laughter, then a weird noise came from him. His twin abruptly stopped laughing and stared at him. "Did you just hiccup?"

"No!" protested Elrohir, but he was still laughing, and he hiccupped again. Elladan snorted, then the same noise flew out of his mouth.

"You hiccupped too!" Elrohir accused, doubling over. Elladan just started chortling again, remembering Erestor's face when he slipped on the ice.

They were both still laughing when a petite, dark-haired elf walked around the corner of the building. He stared down at the twins - they were sitting on the stone walkway, their backs against the wall - and shook his head, turning to walk away. The only time they were in hysterics like this was when a prank went especially well and they had extremely enjoyed their victim's reaction. "I don't even want to know what you did."

"No, wait!" Elrohir shot to his feet, suddenly remembering something. "Lindir!"

The mistrel turned back hesitantly. "Yes?"

Elladan had joined his brother. Elrohir said, "Have you seen Ioreth?"

"Pardon?"

"Ioreth. The elleth that we escorted here," Elrohir clarified.

"Oh, yes!" Lindir pointed. "I believe I saw her last in the Hall of Fire a few hours ago, telling tales from Greenwood. Her sister was with her too." He muttered something under his breath, then breathed out quickly, his eyes darting to the side. "Um . . . I just remembered something very urgent, and I must . . . go do it." He gave a tight smile, turned, and ran.

Elladan and Elrohir gave each other confused looks. What was that all about? They found out when they heard the quiet padding of someone walking toward them, about to come around the corner of the building. Years of practice had forced the twins to learn the tread everyone made when they walked - this one was Erestor's gait, his steps sounding clipped and angry.

"Uh-oh," Elrohir breathed.

Elladan grimaced. "Too late to run."

"Might as well try." Elrohir sprinted away, and Elladan looked nervously behind him, then followed. Just as they reached the end of the building, they heard Erestor's voice.

"ELROHIR! ELLADAN!"

Panicked looks, and the twins dodged around the corner of the building, then shot away, heading for the Hall of Fire. They bolted inside and ducked behind a table piled with fruits, Elrohir peeking out to see if they had been followed. He sank back with a relieved sigh. "Safe!" When no reply came from his twin, he glanced over . . . and saw Elladan looking up at a confused Ioreth with a sheepish expression.

Elrohir shot to his feet, a coy smile leaping to his face. He caught up Ioreth's hand and kissed it. "My Lady! How are you?"

She was just staring at him, then at his twin, who had climbed to his feet. "Um . . ." Slowly pulling her hand away, she turned her attention to Elladan. "Is your shoulder well? I went to see you a few times, but you were unconscious the whole time. Your brother was there the whole time though, I think, and he kept me company."

He blinked, then gave her a small smile. "I am fine, thank you."

Ioreth then frowned at Elrohir. "What were you doing?"

"What was I doing?'" Elrohir repeated. "Well . . . we were doing something very important . . ." He looked to his twin for help, but none came. Elladan was just glancing back at the entrance to the Hall, scanning the crowd of elves for an infuriated Erestor. "We were . . ." Elrohir continued, "er . . . doing exercises!"

"Exercising?" Ioreth asked. She looked doubtful, and for good reason. Who did their exercising in the Hall of Fire? "Why?"

"To . . . get Elladan's shoulder back into good shape!" Elrohir burst, warming up to his story. "And we're supposed to be running around and doing exercising things, like what we were just doing. You know, going up and down."

"Hm." Ioreth shrugged, apparently accepting his weird explanation. "Well, Elladan, would you like to meet my sister? Elrohir already has; she came with me once to see you." She ducked her head. "It was partially my fault that you got hurt. I was the one who -" She was cut off by Elladan fixing her with a stern look and placing his hand on her shoulder. "Do not think it was because of you that I was hurt. I was the one who didn't move in time."

"And he gets hurt a lot anyway," Elrohir added, not helpfully. Elladan jabbed him with his elbow and smiled at Ioreth. "I'd love to meet your sister. You said she had a new child?"

"A little boy!" Ioreth exclaimed. She was obviously very fond of her nephew. "Come see him, he was born a few years ago. He's adorable!"

"I already saw him," Elrohir whispered to his twin.

"Well, come anyway," Elladan insisted in a low voice, already starting after the elleth.

Elladan greeted Ioreth's dark-haired sister with a charming smile and a bow, breaking the ice easily and chatting with her. Ioreth and Elrohir just stood to the side, Elrohir rolling his eyes at his twin's antics to get the elfling in the elleth's arms to smile at him. He finally succeeded though, and somehow managed to get Gilrin - Ioreth's older sister - to let him hold the cooing baby. He held him resting on his right arm, leaning against his chest, and grinned down at the baby.

"You know what?" Elladan murmured to the little elfling, shooting his brother a sly smirk, "I think El is planning on doing a prank on your aunt." When the baby let out a gurgle, he nodded his head animatedly, raising his voice to a higher pitch. "Do you think I should tell her? I think I will."

Elrohir was the only one that could hear what his twin was saying, and the look he shot him made him know that he would pay for that later, but it was worth it now. Elladan just grinned, then handed the chubby baby back to Gilrin, who was watching the excited elfling with a smile on her face. "Thank you, lady." Elladan bowed again. "Your elfling will grow up to be a handsome ellon."

Gilrin smiled, ducking her head. "Thank you, my lord."

"We have to go," Elrohir announced suddenly. "Elladan, you need to take your medicine."

"What?" Elladan frowned. "El, I don't -"

"YES, you do," Elrohir interrupted, giving a tight smile. "Remember?"

Elladan caught on. "Oh! Yes, my medicine! For my shoulder," he explained needlessly, shifting the named body appendage. His wince was real. "It was delightful to meet you, Lady Gilrin." He bowed once more, then kissed Ioreth's hand as his brother had done earlier. "Lovely seeing you again." And he swept away, in a dramatic way only he and his twin could do.

Elrohir cast his twin's back a frantic look, then hurriedly bowed and said his goodbyes. He caught up to his twin, who raised an eyebrow at him, the move eerily similar to their father's. "What was that about the medicine? Did you see Erestor?"

"Indeed, and he was coming toward us." Elrohir hurried his pace.

"If we make it to Ada's office, he can protect us."

"He might protect you, his wounded patient, but I wouldn't be too sure about me." Elrohir grimaced. "I wish I had some wound that would make me appear innocent." At a look from his twin, he added, "Of course, you don't look innocent at all, just annoying," he dodged a swipe from Elladan, smirking, and continued, "and ugly!"

"Ugly?" Elladan rolled his eyes. "Please! We're identical twins!" He smirked. "Actually, you are hideous."

"Well," his brother amended. "Sorry. I'd rather be the smart one anyway."

"Smart one? Like when you tripped in a rabbit hole last year?" Elladan retorted.

The word-sparring that was about to start was interrupted by a figure appearing in front of them. Dark brows were drawn low over his face, a scowl on his lips, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. The twins gulped simultaneously.

"Now, Erestor," Elrohir appealed, putting his hands in front of his defensively. "You don't know for sure that we're the ones that did it."

"If I had any doubts before, I don't know," the usually-sedate adviser growled, stalking toward them.

The twins didn't even have to look at each other to convey their thoughts, spinning in tandem and bolting. "Run!"


	5. It All Begins

"Raich!" Elladan cursed, dropping his right hand in exasperation and glaring at himself in his mirror. He had been trying for ten minutes now to braid his hair back in its usual style, but he couldn't do it with only one hand, and he couldn't even move his left arm without pain shooting through his shoulder. Of course, it had only started doing when he tried to do his hair. It hadn't protested at all while he was getting dressed for the day. "Stupid shoulder," Elladan muttered, frowning again. He heard a knock at the door, and knew immediately who it was.

"Come in."

"Hey, El!" Elrohir was already coming in, his hair already done, immaculate as always. He stifled a laugh at his brother's furious face. "Having trouble?"

"No," grumbled Elladan contrarily, reaching up and starting to separate three strands of hair for a small braid. His twin sighed and walked up beside him, taking the handful of hair. Elladan glowered at himself in the mirror while Elrohir deftly plaited one length of hair, then moved to the other side and did the same. A few moments later, Elrohir tied the braids back into the same style he wore himself.

"There. All done."

"Thanks," his brother grudgingly said, but he really did welcome the help.

"You just had to ask." Elrohir did a double-take, glancing at his brother's clothes, then his own. "Are we wearing the same clothes again? – we are." He rolled his eyes. "Guess I'll change." Starting for the door, he was stopped by Elladan, whose face had changed to a mischievous grin. "Wait! Don't."

"Why not?"

Elladan picked up a length of white fabric from the dresser and tossed it to his identical twin. Their expressions matched - a knowing smirk coupled with a twinkle in their eye.

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

"Have you seen Elrohir?" Glorfindel asked the son of Elrond in front of him.

The twin looked up, his shoulder wrapped securely in a sling. His dark eyes were round and innocent, and Glorfindel was immediately suspicious, but he didn't know why. After all, Elladan was the one that had gotten hurt - it made it easy to tell between the two when they decided to wear the same clothes and confuse everyone. "What do you need Elrohir for?"

Glorfindel smiled. It was a small, grim smile. "Oh, I have a . . . present for him."

"Ohh." The twin shrugged. "Well, the last time I saw him was in the side halls near the dining area." He ducked his head quickly, but not before Glorfindel caught a strange smile on his face.

Glorfindel shrugged and headed and left the dusty library, heading toward the dining hall. Even if Elrohir wasn't there, someone was sure to have seen him. As soon as he entered the dining hall, he caught sight of a dark-haired ellon standing across the room and chatting with a few elf maidens, a grin on his face as he regaled them with a tale, probably one from his adventures with his twin. "Found you," muttered Glorfindel, starting for him.

But then he stopped.

The twin had turned, revealing a white sling supporting his arm and wrapped around his neck. His dark hair was a stark contrast to the bandage. The Balrog-slayer stared. "What?"

Oh. It was another prank. But which one was Elrohir? The twin in the library had the same clothes, the same hairstyle, as the one in this room. They both had a sling holding up their left arm . . . it had to be the one in the library! That little smirk on his face right before Glorfindel left - he was proud of himself for fooling the Elf lord. This was infuriating! Glorfindel spun and headed back to the library, a formidable look on his face.

When he burst through the entrance to the large library, he saw Elrohir - was it Elrohir? It had to be - sitting on one of the large armchairs, reading a book held in his right hand. He looked up and caught sight of a furious face. The twin immediately oozed guilelessness. "Hello again, Glorfy. Did you find who you were looking for?"

"I did indeed." The Balrog-slayer lunged for him, golden hair flying. To add insult to injury, he had just been called by their childhood nickname for him.

The ellon dropped his book and scrambled backwards, then leapt to his feet and ran for his life. He sprinted out the door, Glorfindel in hot pursuit. "El!" the twin yelled, running for his bedchambers, and hoping his brother would hear him.

Glorfindel was wrong. This twin actually was Elladan, and his shoulder throbbed now with each step he took. A furious Elf lord wouldn't listen to reason though, so Elladan didn't stop. He desperately fled the furious Glorfindel, and made it to his chambers just in time. Leaping into his room, he slammed the door behind him and shoved the bolt into place, just as a body slammed into the door from the other side.

"Elrohir!" the Elda roared, pounding on the door.

Elladan let out a relieved sigh and sank down against the door, catching his breath. "That was fun!" he called through the door to Glorfindel.

There was a tense silence, then, "Let me in this instant!"

"Absolutely not," Elladan exclaimed. "You'll hurt me!"

"And you deserve it for putting the relaxant in my tea last night!" came the retort.

"So that's what he did," mused the twin, grinning. He knew just the herb Elrohir would have used, one that . . . er, induced bowel activity. Glorfindel would have had an interesting time sitting in one place for more than an hour. He raised his voice. "Still not opening the door!"

"I will kill you," Glorfindel growled, banging on the door once more, then silence fell.

Elladan smirked. He knew this trick. Glorfindel would pretend to have left, then when Elladan opened the door to check, a furious elf would be there ready to strangle him. It would not work this time.

Elladan climbed to his feet and went to the balcony across from the door. Stepping out onto it, a cold wind flung his hair back, whipping dark tendrils around the braids his brother had done earlier. Matching the icy wind, a chill suddenly swept through Elladan, summoning an involuntary shudder. Shaking his head, Elladan briefly wondered where that had come from and stepped back, shutting the doors behind him. He sighed and decided to work on a report for Trollshaw to the west of Imladris. He and Elrohir had done a scouting mission a few days before they headed to Mirkwood - he could never remember to call it Greenwood, even though hearing the kingdom's new nickname would infuriate King Thranduil - and he had forgotten to write a report on what they found there.

He might as well do it now; he would have to wait for either Elrohir or his father to rescue him before he could come out of his room. Glorfindel was probably still lurking outside the door, just waiting for his chance.

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

"Please pardon me," Elrohir said to the three ellith in front of him as he caught sight of a particular Elf lord - Glorfindel, with a dangerous look in his blue eyes - across the hall. He gave them a roguish smile, bowed, then left abruptly. He could hear them giggling behind him, starting a discussion about the story he had been telling them. Grinning, Elrohir readjusted the sling that had started to slip and started for one of the exits. He knew Glorfindel hadn't seen him yet, so he was safe.

Elrohir suddenly remembered something very urgent he had to tell his father. Well . . . it was pretty urgent. It had to do with the number of sweet pastries that were to be served in tonight's meal. With that thought in mind, Elrohir hurried to his father's office.

Stopping just outside the door, Elrohir raised his hand to knock on the door to Elrond's chambers, remembering ruefully what had happened the last time he had barged in. His father had been writing some really long report and had been just about finished when Elrohir flung the door and startled him, causing him to jerk the quill he was writing with and fling wet ink all across the paper. The result had been two hours of rewriting the report for his father. That wasn't going to happen again. He rapped on the door a few times, then waited patiently for his father to open the door.

But it was Erestor who opened the door, and his eyes narrowed dangerously when he saw the twin. He looked about to say something, but then saw the sling on Elrohir's shoulder, sighed, and stepped aside. Elrohir walked into Elrond's office, grinning. Being mistaken for his brother was a good thing sometimes. The Counselor wouldn't hurt him if he supposedly still had a healing wound.

"Ai, Adar," Elrohir greeted, seeing his father facing the window, his hands clasped firmly behind his back.

"El," Elrond decided to say, not knowing which twin it was yet. He turned to face him, raising an eyebrow at the crooked sling on his son's shoulder. "Your sling is slipping."

"What?" Elrohir glanced down at the offending item. "Oh." He readjusted it, tossing in a mock grimace to add to the effect. Regaining his composure, he glanced up at Elrond, and then over his shoulder at Erestor, who was glowering at him. "Were you in a meeting?"

"Not quite. Erestor was just voicing a few concerns." Lord Elrond relaxed his fingers' grip and dropped his hands to his side, then walked calmly over to his large desk with papers, quills, and an assortment of items scattered across it. The mess was a matter of debate with Erestor, who found it annoying to have something like that disorganized. Elrond never managed to find the time to arrange it 'correctly,' although Elrohir suspected that his father didn't organize it just to see his Chief Counselor flustered.

"Well, then." Elrohir decided to tell the real reason for his visit. "I was just . . . finding a good place to get away from Glorfindel. He's angry at us again."

"Us? Where is your brother?" questioned Elrond, not in the least bit dismayed that the Balrog-slayer was hunting his sons down.

Elrohir hesitated, waiting for the bond with his twin to let him know where Elladan was. He wasn't quite sure, but it seemed like his brother was near his chambers, which would mean - "He's in his room." A smirk. "Probably hiding from Glorfindel too."

"I see." Something flashed for the briefest moment in Elrond's eyes, something so brief that Elrohir couldn't be sure, that said his father was hiding a bit of knowledge from him. But after a few moments of silence, Elrond did not speak, so Elrohir didn't press. He opened his mouth to change the subject - maybe ask his father about the sweets tonight - when his bond with Elladan suddenly . . . vanished.

Elrohir's mind erupted. The world suddenly ceased to exist, and nothing mattered but the chaos inside his head. A foul taste filled his mouth, but that was the only thing he could sense; his vision had blacked, and he couldn't hear anything. He felt like his soul had just ripped in pieces, his other half yanked abruptly from him. He wanted to deny what had just happened, refuse that the unthinkable had occurred, but his missing bond screamed at him otherwise. There was a gaping hole in his heart, darkness spiraling around it, and it threatened to pull him in.

No.

No, it hadn't happened.

Elladan wasn't gone.

But he was. Nothing could sever their bond like that, nothing . . . except death. He couldn't be dead, it was impossible. Elladan had to be alive, there was nothing that could kill him - he was safe in Imladris - right? Nothing could hurt him, touch him, here. The valley was a sanctuary from evil, no orcs, wargs, filth could come here. There were no traitors; nothing wrong could make it in here without being found out.

He's gone, whispered the missing part of his mind. But how could it talk if it was gone? Join him . . . fall into death like your womb-mate. Join him in silence; flee to the Halls of Mandos.

No! His brother had not gone to the Halls, he couldn't be ripped away from him so suddenly, he was meant to do more - they were meant to do more! They had not avenged their mother; their oath was not fulfilled, the filthy yrch were not gone from the face of Arda . . .

Fall, came the tickle from the back of his mind again. Must not . . . must not listen . . .

There was no comfort in the darkness, no light he could flee to. Even in the depths of unconsciousness, Elladan's presence had always been there, a comfort, reassuring, a reminder that he wasn't ever alone - and now it was gone. He was empty, devoid of the bond, it was gone. Forever.

Don't fall!

But the aching emptiness yawned up at him, and the pull was too great. He felt his tiny bit of resolve give way, and he collapsed into the silence of the missing bond. The moment before he was gone forever, a drop of memory stood in his way and pushed back. The drop turned into a torrent, then a rage, and poured over him, drowning him in a brief moment of a memory.

The twins stood side by side, their hearts pounding in aching rhythm, watching the last remnant of fluttering white sail disappear over the horizon.

"We will avenge our mother."

It didn't matter which one had said it, it was both their vow, and far away, a form heard the oath and took notice.

And whenever they fought, whenever they killed the yrch, that pledge remained at the forefront of their mind, driving them forward and giving them strength.

The memory released him back into the blessed silence of his mind, but he wasn't to be left alone. A faint call echoed through him, calling for him. He couldn't make out the words, but they sounded frantic. Was the being calling for him worried? He wondered why. The voice sounded familiar somehow, but he didn't know who it was.

Then a surge of light flashed through his mind, driving the shadows back and making the darkness flee. Strength surged through him, and he felt his senses slowly return. The first thing he made out was a frenzied voice . . . his father's? Why was his father . . . ? And then his sight rushed back, granting him a worried face, his father's eyebrows drawn low over his face.

"Come back!" he was saying. His eyes found Elrohir's, and relief lanced through them, then replaced by a concerned look.

Elrohir realized he was gasping for breath, his hands clutched over his heart. He could still barely hear over the roar in his ears, but he could make out what Elrond was saying.

"Elladan!" his father was saying. "What happened?"

The twin could feel a body behind him, holding him, and he knew he had fallen, his legs twisted under him. Yet he couldn't say anything, his head still reeling with shock. He could feel the sling slipping as Elrond desperately grabbed his shoulders to keep him from falling further, and it fell aside, revealing a perfectly healed shoulder.

Elrond barely noticed the sling coming off, but he did see his son's shoulder, free of wounds and clean. Realization came to him, but he was still worried, and he frowned briefly down at the twin. "Elrohir?"

"What happened?" It was Erestor's voice, sounding distorted and far away. He as the one holding Elrohir up, but the stunned twin didn't seem to notice. His eyes were blank with horror from something neither Elrond nor his Counselor could see. Tiny tremors ran up and down his arms where Elrond was gripping him.

"Elrohir!" snapped Elrond, panic flooding him. He gave his son a small shake, and at that moment, the elf seemed to return to him, but his face was drawn and haunted, and he pulled away from the two elves holding him up. Elrond stared in perplexity as his son folded his legs under him and recoiled from Erestor, tucking his arms in close to his body, and then curling into himself. It was the signs of complete emotional shock . . . what could have happened to reduce him to such a state? He had been fine just a few moments ago, then his eyes suddenly glazed over and he collapsed. Erestor had been a few feet behind him and he managed to catch him before he slammed against the stone floor.

Elrond had first thought it had been an effect from the unknown poison from Elladan's arrow wound, but this twin wasn't Elladan! It was Elrohir! Knowing he had to find out what had happened, the Elf lord knelt next to his son and gently touched his shoulder.

Elrohir could feel an icy numbness creeping over his body, pulling him into a sluggish state. The cold was so pronounced, he knew he was radiating it . . . he couldn't touch anyone, they would feel it too. With an effort, he wrenched himself away from his father and Erestor, and rolled into a ball, turning away. A moment later, he felt a brief hand brush his shoulder, the worried touch of his father. Warmth spread from his fingers, and Elrohir almost turned toward it, but pulled away again.

"What happened?" Elrond's voice was soft, reassuring, but an underlying current of worry laced it.

His throat was dry, refusing to cooperate, but he had to tell his father what had happened before the cold overtook him completely. He swallowed thickly, then forced his voice to cooperate. The word came out somewhat garbled, but it was at least discernible. "Elladan . . ."

Elrond realized suddenly that his Chief Counselor was there - he had fled his mind at the moment - and he glanced up, motioning with his eyes to run and fetch the oldest son. Erestor apparently remembered that Elrohir had told them where he was, since he nodded, then dashed out the door. Elrond would have found the sight of his usually serene Counselor sprinting away amusing at another time, but not now. He bent back down to Elrohir, who had stopped speaking, his eyes fluttering shut, dark eyelashes whispering against high cheekbones. "No!" He would not let him fall asleep, not when he didn't know what had happened. Shaking the twin's shoulders again, he said, "Erestor has gone to get your brother. What happened?" Did he hide a wound from the orc attack four days ago? It wouldn't be the first time, but somehow Elrond knew that was not what had happened.

"No . . ." Somewhere inside him, Elrohir felt a flame of energy. Pulling it toward him, he let it burn some of the coldness away. Adrenaline laced through him in a sudden flare, and his eyes flew back open, strength surging through him. He would find his twin, nothing could have happened to him! This was all just a mistake; the tension from worrying over his older twin had somehow gotten to him, causing him to imagine things. The ache in his heart told him he was lying to himself, but he couldn't just lie here! Uncurling, Elrohir scrambled to his feet, his father standing up with him.

"Elrohir!" His father was beside him, hand still on his shoulder. "What are you doing?"

"It's Elladan!" The twin's voice returned, panic fueling his sudden vitality. "He's gone!"


	6. An Elf Falls

Ten minutes earlier

"I will kill you," Glorfindel threatened, banging on the door one more time. No noise came from the inside, and satisfied, the Balrog-slayer turned from the twin's room, then suddenly stopped and spun around. This was Elladan's room! Even if the prankster he had just been chasing was trying to fool him, he wouldn't run into his brother's room - this was Elladan! Glorfindel let out a growl of frustration. Why did these two have to be so troublesome? They were either hunting orcs, lying wounded in the Healing Halls, or playing tricks on everyone in sight.

He would have to go get Elrohir, then. The other son of Elrond would probably still be in the halls near the dining area, regaling those ellith with a tale or two. A determined look on his face, Glorfindel started for where he had last seen Elrohir.

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

"Shh, penneth," murmured an elf maiden, rocking a tiny elfling back and forth in her arms as she walked down the halls. It was Ioreth, her eyes soft as she gazed down at her sister's son. Her strawberry blond hair was in a gentle twist, spiraling over her shoulder and almost reaching her waist. A few hours ago, Gilrin had asked to her to watch her child while she and her husband went on an excursion with a few other elves. They were going to visit the waterfalls on the far side of the valley - it would take them an hour to get there, and they were planning on a picnic lunch there too. Ioreth, of course, readily agreed; she wanted to spend more time with her young nephew and this would be a great time.

"Bafleba," the elfling Duron suddenly informed her, his face breaking into a chubby, toothless grin. A shock of black hair stuck up from his head.

"You don't say!" exclaimed Ioreth, smiling widely at his gibberish.

"Goolata," he agreed excitedly.

Ioreth knew she must look silly talking to an elfling too small to understand her, but she didn't care. She suspected the other elves walking past her in the gardens didn't mind either; the ellyn smiled and kept walking when they caught sight of Duron, and the ellith would coo back at him, delighted. Spying a branch ahead, Ioreth ducked under it nimbly, then turned to go into the trees. She enjoyed the gardens of Imladris; there were very few in Greenwood, but the ones here were beautiful, the perfect blend of plants and trees. Delicate flowers sprang from almost every inch of the ground, and the trees were meticulously kept, trailing their branches high in the air. As a Woodland elf, Ioreth noticed the difference in the trees from here and from Greenwood. The ones here were lighter, more carefree, while the ones at her home had a darker spirit to them, yet they could move at will and easily protect the elves that ran through them.

Ioreth was brought abruptly out of her thoughts by an annoyed tree's mutterings, and a muffled oath from a voice that sounded suspiciously familiar - but was above her head. Taking a cautious step backwards, Ioreth peered up into the tree. She realized she had gotten much closer to the buildings than she had known, and was now right next to a two-story flat that housed residents of Imladris. There was a wild rustle of trees, and then suddenly an elf fell out of the tree and slammed into the ground in front of her. Ioreth let out a gasp and skittered backwards, clutching Duron closer to her chest.

The elf that had fallen - it was an ellon, Ioreth realized - let out a frustrated groan and rolled over. As soon as she caught sight of the sling on his arm, she knew who it was. "Elladan!" Ioreth cried in surprise. "What are you doing?"

"Who -" Elladan stared at her for a moment, then his face turned red, realizing his untimely departure from the tree had been witnessed. Scrambling to his feet, he bowed. "Well met, Ioreth," he said feebly, giving her a cautious smile.

She loosed her tight grip on Duron and cocked her head at him. "May I ask why you fell out of the tree? It seems annoyed at you for some reason."

He smiled beatifically, catching sight of the baby she held and snagging the first idea that came to mind. "Oh, I just thought it would be amusing for the elfling if I landed in front of him."

Ioreth waited.

"No, really, I was working on a report for Trollshaw," Elladan admitted, figuring that she wouldn't be fooled. "But I became bored and decided to sneak out the window because Glorfindel was . . ." he coughed, "he was waiting for me outside my door. I've escaped my room by that way before, but the tree I use to get out of the second story seems to get irritated whenever I climb on it."

"Oh. Very well." Ioreth decided that she would never get a sensible explanation out of him or his brother. "How is your arm?"

"It's fine," he said automatically, then smiled sheepishly. "Not really. It's a bit painful, but nothing I can't handle."

"I'm glad it's healing well," Ioreth said politely.

They stood there for a moment longer - Ioreth trying desperately to think of something to say, Elladan stifling the urge to rub his aching shoulder.

"Hamayama!" shrieked Duron, deciding his new babysitter hadn't been paying attention to him for far too long.

Ioreth's head snapped down to look at him. "Duron!" she scolded half-heartedly.

Elladan had let out a merry laugh. "Were we ignoring you?" he asked the elfling.

"Meph!" Duron affirmed, waving his arms wildly.

"That's terrible." Elladan knit his brow in mock horror, then clasped his right hand over his heart. "Will you ever forgive us for leaving you out of our conversation?"

Ioreth couldn't hold back a laugh when the elfling seemed to understand and let out an audible sniff.

"You wound me, penneth." Elladan smirked, raising his eyebrows at Ioreth. She smiled. "I'm watching him for my sister while she goes with her husband and a few others to the west side."

"Ah, the waterfalls." He nodded. "They are delightful this time of year, with the leaves just beginning to fall."

"I plan on visiting them soon too," she revealed. "I don't know who I would go with, though."

"Imladris is well protected," he told her. "You could travel anywhere within our borders and never be harmed. I think Elrohir would like to go with you, though." He seemed about to say something more, when he suddenly tilted his head slightly and frowned.

"What is it?" Ioreth asked, knowing he had heard something, but she sensed nothing of note. Just a few leaves rustling in the slight wind, a soft tread as an elf walked through the paths of the garden, and some birds cheeping overhead.

"Forgive me, my lady," Elladan said, bowing slightly. "I must be off." With an abrupt spin, he vanished into the trees again. Ioreth stared after him in slight confusion. That had been sudden. Wondering what had caused him to leave suddenly; she heard a slight rustle behind her. Turning, Ioreth spied the famed Balrog-slayer coming toward her, his golden hair fluttering loose. She had seen him a few times during her current stay in Imladris, but never spoken to him. He had a powerful aura, but one contained very close to him.

"Ai," greeted Glorfindel, giving her a nod and smiling ever-so-slightly. "Ioreth."

She couldn't have been more shocked. He knew her name? She bowed, taking care not to let Duron slip. "My lord."

A smile flitted across his face, but then seriousness retook him. "Pardon me for disrupting the time with your nephew," he said, "but I have a small question for you. Have you seen Elrohir anywhere about?"

"Elrohir?" Ioreth confirmed.

He nodded.

"I'm afraid not," she said. "But I did just see his brother. Might you ask him?"

Something akin to an evil glint sprang in his eyes, but Ioreth mentally shook her head. She had to be imagining things.

"Oh yes," Glorfindel said, fighting a triumphant grin. "He would help me considerably."

"He went that way," Ioreth volunteered, pointing in the direction Elladan had practically fled.

"Thank you very much," Glorfindel said, nodded once more, then hurriedly walked in the direction she had pointed.

As soon as he was out of sight, Ioreth grinned down into her nephew's face. "Did you see him," she asked Duron excitedly. "The Balrog-slayer! I talked to him!"

"Mee-am," was his answer.

"You're lucky," she told him mock-seriously. "You get to grow up with the reborn Elf lord living in your very halls!"

But meanwhile, the legendary Balrog-slayer was practically sprinting after the son of Elrond. He caught up to Elladan at the very edge of the garden. As soon as the older twin saw him, he unconsciously tucked his left arm in close to his body, throwing his right hand out. "Wait! Glorfindel, I'm not Elrohir!"

"Yes, I know that." He grinned with a malicious twinkle in his eyes. "I'd like to know just where Elrohir is. He evaded me in the halls. Where would he have gone?"

But Elladan could never betray his twin to an Elf lord out for revenge. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe he just snuck off to the kitchens. It has been a while since we last ate, after all, far too long!"

"Are you sure he's in the kitchen?" Glorfindel took another step forward, not fooled by his innocent act.

"Quite . . . sure." The twin hesitated, then seemed to come to a decision and spun, sprinting away. So he was going to run for it, was he? A malevolent look on his fair face, Glorfindel shot after him.

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

Lindir was enjoying a peaceful day in the courtyard. His fingers danced nimbly over his lyre, melodious music filling the air. Today was just perfect . . . birds chirping happily along with his song, a few elves listening also as they read books, and the sky sunny and clear. The stone floor did have a few puddles of water on it from the rainfall the night before, but he had avoided them easily when coming in. His lyre was resting on the large fountain in the middle of the courtyard, Lindir seated next to it, plucking the strings lightly.

But he should've expected something bad to happen. Just moments after thinking that this day was the one that he would not be bothered by some sudden interruption, there was a shriek from around the corner of the closest building. A second later, a dark-haired son of Elrond sprinted into view. Lindir's fingers stuttered once, missed a string, and the song was ruined.

The minstrel let out a groan as he stopped playing. Elladan - it had to be Elladan, he had a white sling on his left arm - glanced over his shoulder anxiously in time to see Glorfindel bearing down on him, golden hair flying behind him.

"Don't kill me!" Elladan shrieked. "It wasn't my idea to do it, and I don't know where Elrohir is anyway!"

Silence was worse than a retort from the Balrog-slayer when it came to running for your life, though. Glorfindel just ran faster.

Lindir tried to ignore the two elves bearing down on him, blinking as he recalled the notes to his song. "After the triple stutter," he prompted himself, remembering where he had messed up. Nodding, Lindir raised his fingers to the strings again. He was used to seeing people chasing the sons of Elrond, and the best thing to do was to ignore them until they went away.

Unless they involved you in their dispute. Lindir cringed as Elladan caught sight of him. "Please don't," he whispered. But Elladan either didn't hear or chose not to, and dashed over to him. "Save me," he ordered the minstrel frantically.

"I'd prefer not to?" Lindir said, but his voice rose at the end, making it a question.

Elladan didn't notice that either. "Please! I'm wounded!" He gave his shoulder a pitiful look.

"No," Lindir decided. "No, no, no, no, no. I'm not helping you. Not this time." He grabbed his lyre and scooted a few feet away down the fountain. Water shot up in an arc behind him, providing the perfect backdrop to his songs . . . if he could ever get back to them!

"Fine!" Elladan had already lost time trying to convince the suddenly-stubborn minstrel, and darted away, Glorfindel only a dozen feet away. Keeping his head down, Lindir was dismayed to see that instead of just running full-out to go somewhere else, the twin decided to turn and sprint alongside the water fountain. Going in a gradual curve - it was more than a few dozen feet around - Elladan had almost made it back to Lindir . . .

\- and out of the corner of his eye, Lindir saw the twin skid on a hidden puddle of water, fly a few feet, then slam into the hard rock ground out of sight. Lindir waited a few moments for him to leap back to his feet and continue trying to escape, but nothing happened. Glorfindel caught up to his fallen target and vanished too, crouching down next to him.

Lindir became worried after the golden head also didn't reappear. Setting his lyre down, the minstrel climbed to his feet and hurried over to help. He found Elladan lying flat on the ground, his legs symmetrical, arms splayed to the side, and his head hidden by a sheet of dark hair. Glorfindel was kneeling next to him, worriedly checking for a pulse.

As Lindir dropped down next to the unconscious twin and the Balrog-slayer, he could hear feet padding as more elves, abandoning their books, came to see if their eldest resident prankster was fine. Lindir himself was anxious to know if Elladan was all right, and he let out an unconscious sigh of relief when Glorfindel nodded in reassurance and sat back.

Glorfindel had to make sure that he wasn't wounded though, so he gently ran his fingers over the edge of Elladan's sling and pulled it off. Peeling away the edge of his tunic, Glorfindel checked the bandages to see if there was any blood that meant the wound had reopened. When he was sure that it hadn't, he tied the sling back into place and let out a breath, then scowled down at the unconscious Peredhel.

"Now how am I going to find Elrohir?" he complained quietly, but Lindir could tell he had been worried and still was.

"Is he okay?" Lindir asked, feeling completely useless.

"He is," Glorfindel said. "He's going to regret slipping on water though. An elf falling? By a natural element?" He shook his head, calling up a smirk. "I'm going to tell everyone about this."

Lindir was staring down at Elladan's face. It was still partly covered by locks of his dark hair. A sudden urge made him brush the strands back and the hair fell beside him, revealing his delicate elven features and pale face. His eyes were half-lidded, and the minstrel was very relieved to see that they were not closed completely, which would mean he might have suffered a head wound. Footsteps were heard halting right next to Lindir, and he looked up to see two concerned ellith, their books forgotten on the other side of the courtyard.

One's hands were clasped over her mouth, her grey eyes searching Elladan's limp form uneasily. She had apparently never seen one of the twins right after they had done something stupid and gotten hurt. "Oh dear," she breathed. "What happened?"

"He fell," Glorfindel said simply. He would wait to humiliate the twin after he was sure that he would be well, probably once he woke up.

"He's moving!" exclaimed the other elf maiden, pointing at Elladan suddenly.

Lindir's gaze snapped back down to the oldest twin, and indeed he was returning to consciousness, his eyes flickering shut as he winced in pain.

"Don't move," cautioned Glorfindel, but Elladan didn't notice, of course. His right arm came up and he pressed two fingers against his forehead, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. He didn't say anything though, just letting out a small groan.

"Does your head hurt?" Lindir asked, then figured it was a stupid question.

"Mmph," was the twin's answer. His eyes finally crept open, and Lindir automatically leaned forward to check his pupils in case of a concussion. He might not have been a healer, but he knew that much. Glorfindel had just returned his attention to the twin after waving away the worried ellith.

The first thing Lindir noticed was that Elladan's eyes were not normal.

Definitely not normal.

The pupils were expanding so rapidly, the completely swallowed the rich brown of his iris and crept across the white part of his eyes. In moments, his eyes were completely black, and the edges of his eyes seemed to be leaking darkness.

Lindir stumbled backwards.


	7. Flashback and Strange Enemies

Elladan dreamed, his mind far in the past. Right before he slipped into the memory, he faintly remembered what he had done. 'I slipped? This is going to be embarrassing.'

_"Catch me, Glorfy!"_

_The Balrog-slayer hadn't been expecting that, and he spun, flinging his arms out on instinct - just in time for a bundle of excited elfling to land in them. Shoulder-length dark hair spilled around the mischievous twin's face as he looked up at Glorfindel. "That was fun!" he exclaimed. "Do it again!"_

_Glorfindel shook his head firmly. "I think not. You about gave me a heart attack."_

_Deciding that the Elda was serious, the twin squirmed out of his arms and landed on the ground. "Elves can't have heart attacks, silly!" With that, he darted across the lawn and threw himself on the ground, rolling in the lush green grass. Glorfindel shook his head in amusement and turned to face the tall building that housed the Lord of Imladris and his family. Just then, the named Elf lord stepped out between two marble pillars, holding his other son with one hand and his wife with the other._

_"Going on an outing?" Glorfindel inquired of his friend._

_Elrond nodded. "Celebrían wanted to go on a picnic to the waterfalls on the West side."_

_"What a wonderful idea." He pretended he hadn't been listening to them speak about it last night at the eve meal. "Are you taking the twins, or shall I watch them?"_

_"We're taking them," Elrond said, then seemed to notice the son running around in the yard. "Elladan!" he called. "Come, we're leaving."_

_"Have fun," Glorfindel called as the family started for the path that would lead to the waterfalls._

_"We will!" the twins yelled back to him._

_They reached the picnic area thirty minutes later. It might have taken longer, but Elladan and Elrohir raced each other all the way there and their parents had to run to keep up. The view was beautiful, the river splitting to form two perfect falls that cascaded down into a deep pool._

_"Can we swim?" Elladan eagerly asked his father, but it was Celebrían who answered. "No, ion nîn, we're going to eat lunch first. Then you can swim."_

_The twins cheered, and took off to play among the trees while their parents set up the food, taking much longer than they had to so they could let the boys play and talk among themselves._

_"Are you going to swim?" Celebrían asked her husband with a twinkle in her eye._

_"If you do, so will I," he replied with the same smirk._

_Celebrían glanced over at her sons when one let out a shriek as they tussled. She sighed. "They're growing up far too fast."_

_"Aye," Elrond said somewhat sadly. "Soon they will start their training. I hope Elrohir doesn't have trouble with it - he is more studious than Elladan and seems like he wouldn't do as well with the physical aspect of the training."_

_"He will be a healer, like you," his wife predicted. Now grinning, she poked him. "Who would have thought that the mischievous little Elrond would have grown up to be a wise Elf lord?"_

_Elrond replied by sticking his tongue out at her childishly, and she laughed, the sound clear and melodious._

_After eating the delicious lunch the cooks had prepared, Celebrían and Elrond let the boys play for a bit longer while they cleaned up._

_"I want to be Glorfindel this time!" Elrohir yelled, but his twin was unfazed._

_"It's my turn," he retorted. "You were him last time. You can be the Balrog!"_

_The two glared at each other for a moment before Elrohir acceded. "Fine, but I'm going to play him next time." That settled, the two scooped up the nearest sticks and started mock-fighting with each other._

_"Die, foul Balrog!" cried Elladan as he blocked a strike._

_"RAHRRR!" was Elrohir's reply, waving one arm threateningly while lunging forward. Elladan caught the blow and pressed back, then abruptly dropped his stick and tackled Elrohir to the ground. They rolled over a few times together before Elrohir flopped limp, pretending to be dead. Elladan leaped to his feet, flinging his arms out. "I have defeated this scum of Morgoth," he yelled triumphantly._

_Elrohir's head flew up and he scowled. "No, that's not how it happened! Glorfindel died too!"_

_"He did not!" Elladan protested. "He's back at the House right now, he couldn't have died!"_

_"He died!" insisted Elrohir, leaping to his feet. "And then he came back to life!"_

_Elladan remembered his history lessons suddenly, and knew that his brother was right, but he didn't want to lose this argument. "Well . . . oh yeah? What if he never really died? What if . . . what if he was really alive?"_

_"He fell off a cliff!" his twin asserted. "Of course he died." Right before it looked like it was going to evolve back into a physical fight, their father interrupted._

_"Do you want to swim, boys?" Elrond asked._

_They both dropped the argument – and sticks – immediately. "Yes!" Sprinting toward the water, they shed their clothes like extra skins and leapt straight off the overhang into the pool. Celebrían had expected that and she gathered their clothes up, placing them in a pile close to the water. Elrond followed the boys into the water, but only took off his outer tunic and boots, and left the rest of his clothes on._

_After putting everything they had brought far enough from the pool so they wouldn't get splashed, Celebrían walked to the overhand and sat down, dangling her toes in the water. She raised an eyebrow at her husband, the move adopted from him after decades of marriage. "You're going to go back completely wet."_

_Elrond ducked a wave sent his way by Elladan and frowned lightly at her. "I don't want the same scenario that happened last time I went swimming."_

_"What happened?" Elrohir asked curiously. He and Elladan had been having a water-fight, but they paused at their mother's smirking face._

_She waved flippantly. "Oh, his clothes went missing while he was swimming."_

_The twins gaped at her. "He had to go back to Imladris naked?" "Did you take his clothes?"_

_"No and yes," Celebrían replied. She waggled her eyebrows. "I did take his clothes, but unfortunately there were no tales told about it."_

_"Fortunately," insisted Elrond. "Glorfindel found me after I didn't come back after nightfall - I was still in the pool - and he had mercy on me, lending me his over-sized tunic so I could go back without being mortified." At his scowl sent Celebrían's way, she swept her feet through the water and splashed him. "Oh, I would have brought your clothes back the next morning. I wouldn't have left you there!"_

_"Oh yes?" He moved closer, eyes narrowing. The water was barely up to his knees in this end._

_Celebrían could hear her sons snickering as they got the idea and scrambled out of the pool, coming up behind her. She considered running, but they would catch her eventually and there was no point delaying the inevitable. Waiting . . . she felt two small pairs of hands grip her shoulders, their owners sniggering._

_"Don't move, Nana!" one warned, barely holding in a giggle. The threat was spoiled by the twin calling her his mother, but she didn't mention it._

_"Oh no!" she exclaimed dramatically. "I've been captured!"_

_More snickers behind her. Elrond suddenly lunged forward, grabbing Celebrían by her ankles and yanking her into the water. It was far too shallow to get really wet, but Celebrían let out a shriek anyway. Elrond was laughing as he let go of her and splashed water onto her face. The boys collapsed in giggles behind her, and she rose theatrically from the pool, her blond curls streaming down her back and soaked through. She let out a mock growl._

_"You dare attack me?" Celebrían swept her hands through the pond and made a large wave, crashing it onto her husband. He let out a sputter, and Celebrían laughed evilly. "Elladan! Elrohir! Help me defeat this monster!"_

_They immediately complied, leaping into the water and attacking Elrond, who trembled in fake terror, then fought back valiantly._

_Twenty minutes later, Elrond and Celebrían were lying on the bank, gasping for breath. Elladan and Elrohir were still leaping around in the shallow end, but their parents were exhausted._

_"Have fun!" Celebrían called to her sons, flopping onto her back. Elrond joined her, and they stared together up at the leafy canopy above them. She let her head fall sideways to stare at her husband, his dark hair spread around him, soaked. "See?" she told him. "I told you that you needed to take a break. Wasn't this relaxing?"_

_"I wouldn't call being attacked by my wife and traitorous sons 'relaxing,'" he said wryly, then grinned. "But I had fun."_

_"Ada! Nana!" came a yell from one of the twins. Celebrían sat up, brushing her long wet hair back over her shoulders. Once a pale blond like her mother's, the water had turned it a light brown. She smiled at the elflings. "Yes?"_

_"We're going to have a competition to see how many rocks we can get off the bottom of the pool!" It was Elladan. "Will you count?"_

_"We get five minutes each," Elrohir added, his voice carrying over the surface of the water._

_"I will count," Elrond volunteered, sitting up too. He scooted backwards until he was leaning against a tree, then pulled his wife back to join him. "Are you ready?"_

_"I'm going first!" Elladan announced._

_"No, I want to!"_

_Celebrían and Elrond prepared themselves for another argument, but didn't interrupt._

_Elladan set his hands on his hips. He looked hilarious - black hair dripping wet on his bare shoulders, grey eyes flashing so much like his father's, head held high. "I'm oldest! I should go first!"_

_"You always get to go first!" Elrohir complained. He looked no better, but the only difference was a pale fading scar on his right shoulder where he had fallen a few weeks ago and cut his arm open. He changed tactics, though, and opted for something else. He slumped a little and looked with pleading eyes up at his identical twin. "Can I please go first this time?"_

_Elladan hesitated, and Elrohir pressed on. "I'll let you get the sweets plate first."_

_"Fi-i-ine," Elladan dragged out, his resolve broken by the temptation of being able to get to the desserts at dinner first. That was a large manner of debate among the two, and usually had to be settled by Elrond - not usually too upset - taking the whole plate and eating them._

_Celebrían smiled proudly at the boys' settlement and nudged her husband. He grinned at her and raised his voice. "Get ready, Elrohir! I'm going to start counting!"_

_Elrohir tensed, ready to dive headfirst into the deep part of the pool. His twin stood beside him, hands still propped on his waist. The pond was shallow on one end, but the other side was almost twenty feet deep; the waterfalls dropped into that part. The elflings, of course, could swim - they had learned a few years ago. Physically they had the appearance of a five-year old human, but they were actually almost fifteen years old, since elves aged differently than humans. Time still seemed to go by too fast for their parents though._

_"And . . . go!" Elrond called. He started counting immediately after._

_Elrohir immediately leapt into the water, his hair flying behind him. Elladan watched eagerly, his brother's figure distorted by the rippling water. He saw Elrohir reach the bottom and scoop up a handful of pebbles, his cheeks puffed. Turning, he pushed off the bottom and kicked his legs, coming up for air._

_Elrohir let out a gasp as he reached the surface, then took in a deep breath and swam quickly to shore. Dropping the rocks he picked up onto the ground, he turned and dove back into the water. This was repeated four more times before Elrond stopped him from going back in. "Your time's up," the Elf lord said._

_"Okay!" Elrohir scrambled out of the pool, flinging water all over as he shook his head wildly. "Your turn, El!"_

_"I'm going to get more than you!" Elladan proclaimed, then dove into the water. Elrond starting counting again._

_Elladan swept his arms through the water and flailed his legs, slowing down as he got further into the water. The pressure didn't bother him, though, and he let himself float as he gathered as many rocks as he could into his arms. Rolling over, he looked up toward the surface of the water, then kicked at the ground and shot up. Breaking through the top of the water, he deposited his rocks in a different pile than his brother's, spun and lunged back under. As he reached the bottom again, he felt the water seem to . . . shiver. A ripple went through the pool, and for a brief moment, he heard a crack from the surface, muffled by the water._

_A voice yelled, but it was distorted. Elladan peered up toward the surface, his hair floating around his face. There was a blurred shape nearing the water, then it hit with an echo that spread through the water. A . . . rock? Elladan shoved with his hands and drifted backwards as the rock fell toward him much faster than it should have. It barely missed him, practically grazing his nose and settling to the bottom with a light thump. A cloud of dust wafted up from the impact._

_Elladan frowned. Where had that come from? He looked up again just in time to see more rocks smashing into the water, most large boulders but a few as small as his fist. The twin's eyes widened in shock. What in Arda was happening? A huge rock, surrounded by many more smaller ones, flew down toward him, the water slowing them down a little but not much. Elladan could see no other option than to dive farther down, away from the rubble. He might be able to dodge them down there, but his movement was hampered by the water._

_He had just made it to the bottom when the light that had been coming from the sun far above suddenly disappeared. A shadow completely blocked out the sun, and Elladan looked up just in time - or not, as a huge rock was only a few feet from him. The twin desperately kicked at the ground and floated backwards a yard or two, but the rock settled on his legs despite his efforts._

_Surprisingly, it didn't hurt that much, but Elladan could hear a muffled crack from his left leg, and his right leg protested weakly, throbbing. Smaller rubble drifted down past him, but no more large ones came his way. Sand and dust were sent afloat by the submerging rocks, and clouded the water around Elladan. He held his breath as tightly as he could, not even daring to let air out. He couldn't see any light from the surface because of the gloomy water, but he knew his father would come to rescue him soon. What had happened to make the rocks fall like that? Had the waterfalls collapsed?_

_Elladan could feel his lungs becoming tight, but he knew he would be able to abstain from breathing for another few minutes before he passed out. Desperately wishing for someone to come down and help him, he tried to shift the massive rock off him using his arms. It did the complete opposite, settling further down on his legs. This time it did hurt, sending a bolt of fire up his left leg, and he shuddered, letting out a pained cry. Air bubbles escaped from his mouth and shot to the surface. He could feel his whole soul reverberate with the trauma, and it echoed across to his twin. He could feel Elrohir's shock at the pain._

_I'm sorry, brother, Elladan thought, but knew he could not hear him. Gritting his teeth, Elladan tried to pull his right leg out from under the rock, but that didn't work either. It was firmly trapped. He didn't dare to move his other leg again, in fear of it hurting more. Trapped, stuck, with no way out . . ._

_Elladan jerked once more, then was startled by another muted impact from the surface. Water rippled around him, and he could see a blurred figure swimming down toward him. It moved closer, but Elladan couldn't make out who it was until they were right next to him._

_It was Elrond, his dark hair hovering around his face as he caught sight of Elladan trapped under the rock. He didn't stop to think, just grabbed the rock immediately and pushed. It shifted slightly, then settled down further on Elladan's legs. The twin let out an involuntary cry, losing the rest of the air in his lungs._

_Elrond desperately looked around for something to pry the rock up. Seeing nothing, he turned back to his son._

_Elladan could feel fog pressing in around his mind, trying to pull him into unconsciousness. His lungs begged for breath, but he had none to give them. He could feel the rocks shift as his father pulled urgently on it, trying to free him._

And the memory was cut off before Elladan could remember what happened. A black cloud swarmed his mind, prompting one instinct. Fight.

Elladan let his eyes flicker open, assessing his situation. A strange thing was bent over him, his lips moving, hands on Elladan's chest, but Elladan could hear nothing he was saying. All he saw was the slender hands on his stomach, holding him to the ground.

In a wild, swift movement, Elladan kicked out. The thing fell backwards, an odd emotion on his face. Leaping to his feet, he saw another one of the things next to the first one, dark hair framing his pale face. It was staring up at Elladan with a peculiar look in his eyes.

Enemy. His back ached strangely - it had to be these two things' fault. They were the only ones around!

Lashing out, he kicked the dark-haired one in the chest, sending him backwards and stunning him. The first one was leaping to his feet, holding his hands out. Undecipherable noise spilled out of his mouth, pleading for him to stop. But he didn't.

Something was missing, Elladan could feel it. Like a part of his heart was lost, something that had always been there was gone - no, not gone! he realized. It was blocked by the same black cloud that gave him his electric energy, fueled his instinctive reflexes. It was power, a deep pool of something he knew as dominance and supremacy over all living things. But something darker rested in its depths, something he did not want to find at the moment. So he attacked the golden-haired thing.

But he realized after less than a second that he had made a mistake. This thing was obviously strong, his spirit powerful and vibrant. It obviously did not want to fight Elladan, but when he pressed forward, it moved more swiftly than Elladan knew it could. The thing was fast, abnormally fast. It seemed to fly, catching the fist Elladan threw at him and spun him, twisting his arm up behind his back.

Elladan made no noise, his mind flickering through methods to make the thing release him. It was saying something, but he payed it no mind. He saw other thing still lying on the ground, but he was returning to consciousness, rubbing his head gingerly. An advantage . . .

Elladan stretched a leg out and stomped on the dark-haired thing's neck, driving him into the ground. The thing pulling his arm up behind his back seemed to let out a cry, yanking harder on Elladan's wrist. The dark-haired one under his foot grabbed his ankle, gasping for breath and in pain. Its legs kicked, trying to get Elladan to get off, but he would not.

The golden-haired thing behind him was apparently torn, not letting Elladan go, but loosening his grip the slightest, yet not enough for Elladan to slip loose. It made a decision, Elladan knew, as breath whispered across his delicately pointed ear in a sigh. A few words were uttered, and Elladan almost relaxed, thinking it would release him . . . but once again he made a mistake.

The thing's other hand came up and his fingers darted across Elladan's neck. Elladan felt a sharp, blinding pain before darkness overwhelmed him and he dropped.


	8. Terror

Elrohir was alone.

An ache burned in his heart, reminding him of what had vanished. Everything around him blurred as he tried to stand, and though he could faintly hear his father speaking, he did not seem to notice.

"Elladan is gone?" Lord Elrond was repeating.

Was he gone? His torn fëa told him it was true - how could this have happened? Imladris was a valley of peace . . . dimly, Elrohir realized his thoughts were going in circles. How had his father been able to stand having his twin dying of mortality? He had never heard much of his uncle Elros, but he knew he had chosen to live as a mortal and died of old age . . . was this how it felt when the one who shared your soul died?

"Elrohir!" Someone was shaking his shoulders. It was his father.

"Where is Elladan?" Elrond called frantically to his son, trying to get through to him.

Elrohir just slowly shook his head, numb with disbelief, his former energy dissipated in the face of shock.

Not knowing what had happened, or what to do, Elrond decided on instinct to take his son to find the other twin. What else could he do? Swinging the partially-delirious Elrohir's arm over his shoulder, the Elf lord left his office, heading for the chambers of his eldest son.

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

"Thank you, you can leave," Glorfindel assured the two ellith who were fluttering nearby, worried over Elladan. They exchanged glances.

"We'll go get our books," one said, "then come back and check on him." That decided, they hurried away to fetch the books they had left on the other side of the courtyard.

Glorfindel turned back to Elladan, seeing Lindir bent over the unconscious twin. The minstrel was far too kind-hearted, that Glorfindel had decided long ago. He was brushing back Elladan's hair, but suddenly recoiled backwards, landing hard on his backside. What just happened?

"Has he woken?" Glorfindel asked, leaning forward to check for himself. The twin's dark lashes were flickering, and then his eyes came completely open. But his eyes were not the normal warm silver-blue that they usually were - they were black and seeping darkness. The Balrog-slayer frowned and leaned forward; he sensed something . . . wrong. Placing his hands on Elladan's chest, he said, "Elladan? How is your head? You fell."

His eyes were all the way open now and stared up at Glorfindel.

What in Arda was going on with his eyes? Glorfindel was no healer, but he had bound plenty of wounds himself, and helped many a warrior when they had been hurt in a patrol. Head wounds were nothing new to him, but this was something else, something . . . different. Wrong. "Elladan," he tried again. "Listen, penneth. Are you well? Does your head pain you?" Calmness was the key . . .

There! A flicker of recognition. Something flashed in those soulless black eyes, and then Elladan did something Glorfindel did not expect. He jerked backwards, kicking the Elf lord in the chest with his left leg, flinging him backwards. That had not been anticipated. Landing on the hard stone jarred his back and sent his golden hair flying; Glorfindel barely blinked and the twin moved again, this time kicking Lindir in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

Glorfindel had no idea what was happening. Was Elladan reliving some memory from the past? Imagining them to be orcs? Leaping to his feet, Glorfindel threw his hands out in a calming gesture as Elladan crouched, looking like he was about to leap at him. "Elladan Elrondion!" Glorfindel snapped, trying to pull the twin out of the trap in his mind. "Pay attention to me!"

The cold eyes turned toward him, and Glorfindel almost flinched. There was a feral look to them that told the Balrog-slayer that something important was missing in the twin's mind. His silence was unnatural, wrong for one of the sons of Elrond. They were the laughter of Imladris, not the sorrow and pain. He could hear the two elf maidens across the courtyard as they came back towards the ruckus, and he knew that they shouldn't be there. Before he could call to the ellith to warn them away, Elladan struck.

After the first moment of hesitation, Glorfindel caught the flashing fist the twin threw at him and spun him, twisting the arm up violently behind his back. He stopped just before Elladan's shoulder would have popped out of joint, slipping his other arm around the twin's neck. Glorfindel had spent centuries training with every warrior in Imladris. He knew every move, every trick that anyone here had. Especially the twins; he sparred with them often, with and without weapons. He had trained the twins; of course he knew their method of fighting!

Glorfindel waited for any sound at all to pass Elladan's lips as he held his arm in a lock behind his back, but none came. Instead he seemed to relax, his dark hair in disarray and blocking Glorfindel's view of the rest of the courtyard. Then Elladan shifted, and Glorfindel immediately tightened his grip, thinking that he was trying to escape. He wasn't though - a gasping noise came from the ground and Glorfindel suddenly remember Lindir. He was still on the hard courtyard!

With a sinking realization, Glorfindel knew that Elladan had stepped on the minstrel's throat, effectively choking him. There was only one way to get the twin to stop - a pang went through Glorfindel as he made up his mind. He never liked hurting any being, and one of the sons of Elrond would be even worse. He knew what he had to do though. Hoping Elladan could hear him, Glorfindel whispered an apology to him, then loosened his grip around the twin's neck and jabbed for a pressure point.

A taut second later, Elladan's legs gave way beneath him and he collapsed in Glorfindel's arms.

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

Erestor almost had a heart attack when he couldn't get into Elladan's room. It was locked from the inside, the thick oak door preventing any from entering. Flustered, Elrond's Chief Counselor and adviser pressed his ear up against the door to see if he could hear anything. No sound came from inside.

Had something bad actually happened to Elladan? Erestor knew well of the tight connection between the twin brothers, and that either of them could sense any pain from the other; it had happened many times past when they returned from hunting orcs. The adviser would never admit it to anyone else, but he was scared for the twins whenever they returned, wounded or near dead. They were like surrogate sons to him - annoying, prankster sons, anyway. But when Elrohir had just . . . collapsed in Lord Elrond's study a minute ago, he had been struck with a wave of terror. What could have happened to his brother to make the twin break like that?

Banging on the door once more, Erestor gave up. Elladan probably wasn't in there, he would go look for him elsewhere. A route to check everywhere nearby immediately arranged itself in his mind, the path he would walk clicking into place. Starting down the hallway, Erestor began the course he had organized.

He was on one of the bridges when he caught sight of something that would be in his mind forever. A glimpse into the courtyard made him freeze in his tracks - and horror, as he realized that Elrohir had been right.

A tall golden-haired warrior held Elladan, the twin's head tilted back and his dark hair fluttering in the slight breeze. A minstrel - Lindir - was struggling to his feet, grasping his neck and coughing. Water from the fountain behind them cast a light mist over their heads. As the one holding Elladan looked up, Erestor realized it was Glorfindel, his fair face a mask. The sun shining through the mist cast a delicate halo around his golden hair, but sent Elladan into a dour shadow. The son of Elrond's eyes were closed, Erestor realized with horror, his long eyelashes brushing his cheekbones. His right arm trailed toward the ground, while his left arm was draped over his own chest.

Erestor ran toward them, panic dancing through his veins.


	9. Still Alive

When the bond with his twin returned suddenly, Elrohir almost wept with relief. The connection that had snapped was suddenly mended again, warmth flooding his fëa and sending a buzzing through his veins. He could feel his brother again . . . he was fine. Nothing had changed. He could sense his brother a few hundred yards away, in the main courtyard. Something was slightly off though . . . the bond was still there, but there seemed to be a dark cloud of something hovering just between them. All dark memories of what had happened a few moments ago were gone, replaced by a wave of complete and utter relief.

"Elrohir?" He realized his father was holding him up, and a sudden flash of anger went through him at his weakness. He pulled away and Elrond's arm dropped, releasing him. Elrohir straightened, feeling energy course through him at the restoration of the link with Elladan. He raised his chin. "I'm fine." Taking a look at his father, he could tell that he was confused.

Elrond's face was a mask of confusion. He had no idea what had just happened. His son collapsed, was lost in his mind for a few minutes, came to, struggled to his feet, was supported by his father, then suddenly jerked away again. He reached for Elrohir, only for the twin to pull away again.

"I said I'm fine!" Elrohir looked around. "Where's Erestor. Wasn't he just in here?"

"I sent him to look for Elladan," said Elrond. He narrowed his gaze at his son. "Since you seem to be fine now, what happened?"

Elrohir didn't really feel like explaining about it, yet he knew it wouldn't do any good to ignore his father. He sighed and faced his father, deciding to get the words out and over with. "My link with Elladan disappeared, I kind of passed out, then it came back. That's all. Happy?"

The extremely condensed version of recent events had Elrond baffled, but he got the basic idea. "It vanished?!" He paused. "But it's back? How?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Elrohir snapped, all of the tension and former worry about his older brother getting to him. He regretted it instantly, though, shoulders slumping. "I'm sorry, Ada. I just . . . I'm worried. That's never happened before." He looked with muddled grey eyes up at his father. "What could have happened to him?"

"We'll find out," Elrond said firmly, making up his mind. Placing his hand on Elrohir's shoulder, he nudged him toward the door. "Let's go find him."

"He's in the courtyard," Elrohir volunteered, and they started that way.

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

Ioreth hummed to the sleeping elfling in her arms as she walked back toward her chambers. He had fallen asleep just moments before, lulled to sleep by a ballad Ioreth had sung to the trees. She was going to head back to her bedchambers and let Duron have his nap. She would then work on some of her needlework while he slept, then she would possibly go eat supper, or play with him some more.

Turning into the path that would lead to her chambers, Ioreth paused and tilted her head slightly at a distraught cry that came from the direction of the courtyard. "Ai Elbereth! What happened?"

She was instantly worried. In the past four days, not once had she heard someone yelling. Was something going on? Readjusting Daron so his head wouldn't loll to the side, Ioreth let her curiosity get the better of her and hurried toward the direction the person had yelled. She went around the corner of a building and her eyes widened immediately in surprise.

The two ellyn Ioreth had seen minutes before were in the middle of the courtyard, two other dark-haired elves with them. Elladan was being held up by the Balrog-slayer she had just guided in the direction of the twin, and she recognized one of the others as Lord Elrond's adviser, Erestor. Concern lacing her features, Ioreth hurried toward them.

Glorfindel was supporting Elladan with his arms around the twin's waist, slowly lowering him to the ground. Erestor was firing questions at him in Quenya so fast Ioreth couldn't keep up. She had learned it, but she was still much better at Sindarin, her native language. The other dark-haired ellon behind them had a bruise forming on his throat, and a shocked look on his face.

"Á pusta!" Glorfindel finally ordered, letting Elladan rest on the ground. He reverted to Sindarin the next moment. "Lindir, go fetch Lord Elrond."

The minstrel stood dumbly for a moment, then nodded and darted away, sending strange looks at the few puddles that littered the ground.

Glorfindel looked up from his ministrations. "Well, Erestor, don't just stand there! Help me!"

"What did you do?" the adviser asked, his eyebrows furrowing, but he dropped down next to the Balrog-slayer, his long robes getting muddied. Ioreth clutched Duron closer to her chest and stared in confusion at the unconscious Elladan. His eyes were closed, dark eyelashes a terrifying contrast against his unnaturally pale face.

Erestor's fingers were darting to check the twin's pulse, then up to his forehead. Pulling back an eyelid, he examined his eyes and then sat back, frowning at Glorfindel. "There seems to be nothing wrong. What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" protested the Elda, then did a double-take. "Nothing wrong? Did you see his eyes?"

"They're normal. Whatever happened, he doesn't have a concussion." Erestor pulled Elladan's arms up to rest on his chest, then glanced up, seeming to notice Ioreth. His slight frown told her she wasn't wanted there. "Hiril vuin? Why don't you . . ." He looked like he was wracking his mind for a command to give her.

"I'll go help find Elrohir," she volunteered, scurrying away. The sleeping Duron was held tightly to her chest. She didn't want to admit she was scared by the sight of Elladan lying so still like that, but . . .

"Yes, find Elrohir," Erestor agreed, then turned his attention back to the unconscious twin, Glorfindel saying something to him.

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

Lindir sprinted across the courtyard, trying to think of nothing but getting Lord Elrond. His throat was sore, aching with the reminder of what Elladan had done to him. He had stepped on his throat! No, no, not thinking of it. Must tell Lord Elrond, quickly. Refusing to look over his shoulder, he rounded a corner and almost slammed right into two figures. Rebounding, Lindir muttered a hasty apology and was about to go past him when he recognized the fair features and dark hair of the two he had narrowly avoided banging into. His eyes widened. "Your - my lord! Lords! I was just looking for you - Glorfindel sent me, he said that . . . he needs you to," stammered the minstrel, "I mean, Erestor was with him, and someone else - but he fell, and then he went crazy and Glorfindel went to knock him out - "

"Sîdh!" Elrond exclaimed, raising a hand. He took in Lindir's ruffled appearance. "What happened, penneth?"

"I . . ." Lindir took in a deep breath, calming himself as the Elf lord had instructed. He took a quick glance at Elrohir and saw that the younger twin was very pale, his brow beading unnaturally with sweat. "My lords, I just came from the courtyard. Lord Elladan is . . . er, unconscious."

"Oh," sighed Elrond, in partial relief, it seemed. Had he been expecting something worse? Elrohir, however, paled even further, if it was possible.

"El!" the twin gasped, lunging past Lindir. He stopped as a shocking sight greeted his eyes. Erestor and Glorfindel bent over Erestor, their fingers flying as they checked for vitals. Golden hair mixed with black, the ones usually at each others' throats working together. Elrohir had no eyes for the ones kneeling though. He was only looking at his twin who was lying on the ground, his head tipped up and eyes closed in terrifying starkness against his white face. "No!" Panic lending him swiftness, he ran across the courtyard, slipping briefly on a small puddle of water.

For the smallest of moments, Lindir was filled with complete terror as he thought that the younger twin was going to fall. He would hit his head, and the same thing would happen . . . but he regained his elven balance and continued sprinting toward his brother. Elrond nodded quickly at Lindir before hurrying after his son, his slower pace meaning nothing but that he didn't want to slip on the water. Lindir just stayed where he was, sensing another presence come up beside him. It was Ioreth, her pale grey eyes in worried turmoil as she watched Elrohir reach the trio and shove Glorfindel and Erestor aside, dropping next to his brother. An elfling was cradled in Ioreth's arms, sleeping peacefully and blissfully unaware of the scene in front of them.

Elrohir let a finger graze across his brother's cheek, his fear fading as he could feel Elladan returning to consciousness, slowly but surely. Bending, he scooped his lightweight twin up in his arms, resting his head on the dark hair exactly like his. All of the emotions of the past ten minutes caught up to him - fear, panic, abject terror, and relief - and he finally let it all loose, releasing a long and loud wail that echoed through the courtyard.

Lindir's heart almost stopped when he heard the fervid howl that came from Elrohir. Relief crashed over him when Elrond stopped next to them and his shoulders didn't slump. The twin wasn't dead - oh Valar, how everything would have changed if he was.

Dropping his head and pulling Elladan closer, Elrohir let the tears flow.


	10. A Talk

Ioreth was still completely bewildered. She had no idea what had happened. Everything was all in a utterly confusing mess, it seemed. Soon after Elrohir had collapsed next to his brother - and released the most heart-rending wail that Ioreth had ever heard, not that she had heard many - Lord Elrond had scooped Elladan up and hurried him to the closest bed, which happened to be Elrohir's chambers. Glorfindel and Erestor had followed the Elf lord, with Elrohir almost tripping over his father's heels as they all went into the bedchamber. Lindir had grabbed his musical instrument and vanished somewhere. Ioreth knew it wasn't her place to go along with them, so she had gone back to her own room and let her nephew continue his nap as she worked on her needlework. Her sister had come back a few hours later and taken Duron back, thanking Ioreth for watching him.

"It was nothing," Ioreth had told her, but her mind was still on Elrohir and the turmoil he must be going through, so the next chance she got, she hurried toward Elrohir's chambers, hoping to find out how Elladan was doing. What had even happened to him?

Turning a corner of the hallway, Ioreth almost collided with the golden-haired Glorfindel and she stepped backwards quickly, stuttering an apology.

His deep blue eyes lightened a little when he saw her, but they were somehow dark and sad. Seeing the solemn expression on his face, Ioreth thought for a moment of terror that Elladan had - but no, Glorfindel gave her a slight bow and put her fears to rest soon after. "Lady Ioreth, what a pleasure. You have my apologies for almost running you over. I assume you are going to see Lord Elladan?"

"I - yes," she said, trying not to blush. The Elda in so many songs, stories and legends was talking to her!

"He is with Lord Elrond and his brother," Glorfindel told her, gesturing back the way he had come. "If you will wait a few minutes, I'm sure they will speak to you."

"Is Lord Elladan well?" asked Ioreth anxiously, her nervousness overcome by concern for the older twin.

"He is conscious," is all the Balrog-slayer would say, but she heard him mutter something else under his breath, "but I think not well."

"I will . . . wait here then." Ioreth stepped backwards as Glorfindel nodded and continued past her. She glanced down the corridor and could see the door to Elrohir's chambers, but there was no sign of anyone leaving the room anytime soon. She could faintly hear someone talking, and if she strained she might be able to make out what they were saying, but it was none of her business what was happening, so she leaned against the wall and just waited.

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It was ridiculous, Elrohir knew, but he had thought Elladan would never wake again. He could feel his brother's fëa regaining strength as he returned to consciousness, and he knew that the stormy grey eyes would open again, and yet . . . it tore at his heart to see his twin lying so vulnerably on the white bedsheets, his eyes closed in proof of whatever terrible thing had happened. Elladan had awoken though, and he was fine, but right now Elrohir was standing to the side with his eyes lowered while his older brother and father argued. Erestor had left soon after Elrond had brought his sons into Elrohir's chambers, while Glorfindel waited until Elladan had gotten up, then went to: "Do something of great importance." Elrohir was wishing he had someone to help him break up the argument Elladan and Elrond was having - he didn't have the courage right now.

"Glorfindel told me what happened," Lord Elrond was insisting, while Elladan shook his head vehemently.

"No, adar! I do not know what happened, only that I fell. Glorfindel might have just imagined that I was -"

"Are you suggesting Glorfindel was lying?" Elrond's eyes flashed in defense of his friend.

"I – no! I don't remember! I slipped and woke here! That's all I know!" Elladan's head was held high, his dark hair brushed haphazardly over his shoulder. He hadn't spoken one word to Elrohir since he had returned to consciousness, and though Elrohir didn't blame him, it did sting. "You say Lindir was there, but I haven't seen him at all since the courtyard. Why isn't Erestor here? Didn't he see what happened?"

"He did not see, he came upon you after Glorfindel rendered you unconscious in protection of himself and Lindir. He has duties to attend to," Elrond said firmly. "Why did you attack them?"

Elrohir flinched under the barrage of emotions that emitted from his twin at the accusation. Their bond was wide open, and he could feel everything Elladan was going through. The older twin was utterly confused, but angry that his father didn't trust him, and he did not know what had happened! He wasn't aware that their link had . . . snapped earlier, and Elrohir had completely lost contact with him. Elrohir had thought he was dead! Even though his own emotions were being twisted by the barrage of anger, fear, and turmoil that was coming from Elladan, he would not restrict the flow. Not until Elrohir was absolutely reassured that the bond would not vanish again.

"I did not attack them!" Elladan hissed, his usually merry grey eyes burning with anger. "I have absolutely no idea what happened!"

Elrond had apparently suspected that, but he still looked taken aback. Elrohir dared a glance up at his father, and desperately hoped that he would leave it and that and try to figure out what was happening, but it was not to be. Elrond held out a hand to placate his eldest son, and then continued. "Elladan, if you don't know what happened, then we must figure this out together. Do you -"

"No!" snapped Elladan. He spun and headed for the door, throwing over his shoulder, "Just leave me alone, I'll find out what happened by myself." The slamming of the door heralded his departure, and Elrohir cringed mentally when his father turned to face him.

"Elrohir? I'm . . . I am sorry, I did not mean for this to turn into an argument."

The younger twin looked up into his father's worried eyes and nodded. "Go after him, Ada. He doesn't want to be along right now, no matter what he says, and you need to tell him - tell him what you think. In a calmer manner." He flashed a weak smile, and Elrond sighed. "You're right, ion nîn." Placing a hand on Elrohir's shoulder, the Elf lord then turned and walked to the door, leaving.

Elrohir went to the door too but stayed there, leaning tiredly on the door frame as he stared after the retreating figure of his father. A sudden exhaustion swept over him, the intense emotions of the past few hours catching up to him. He felt like turning around and dropping on his bed, falling off to a relaxing sleep. Sorely tempted to do just that, his idea was put off for a time as he caught sight of a slender elf maiden walking toward him. It was Ioreth, her fair face worried and strawberry blond hair set in an intricate hairstyle. She stopped next to him and glanced up, blinking once.

"I was . . . concerned," she said hesitantly. "Elladan ran past me a moment ago. He looked angry. What happened?"

"He's just upset," Elrohir muttered, running a hand over his face. Ioreth caught the gesture and frowned briefly, sensing that he didn't want to talk about his twin at this moment. "You look tired."

"I am, a little," he admitted, turning his gaze to her. He was being rude, he knew, and he didn't like it. Deciding to be proper once more, he straightened from the door and offered her a slight bow. "Mae govannen, Lady Ioreth. How are you?"

"I am well," she stated, raising a pale blond eyebrow, but accepting his change of subject. Wondering how she could continue the civility without touching on what had happened to Elladan, she opted for something else. "Do you like eating?"

Elrohir hadn't expected that. "Well . . . yes, I do."

"It will be time for the evening meal in a few minutes," she announced.

"Oh." He almost laughed. "Of course, I had forgotten. So many . . . things that have happened."

Ioreth saw his sobering expression at the reminder of what happened earlier, so she decided to take a risk. It wasn't her place to cheer him up - she barely knew him - but she couldn't stand to see the usually lighthearted twin looking so solemn, and she held her arm out abruptly. "My Lord? Would you do the honor of accompanying me to the dining hall?"

"I –" This time he did chuckle, a small laugh, but one nonetheless. "I will." Looping his arm through hers, they started for the hall that was about five buildings away. All the way there, Ioreth chattered about many things, trying to get him to laugh once more. She succeeded when she started talking about the antics of her nephew Duron.

"– but then he put it in his mouth!" Ioreth finished with a flourish of her right hand, the one Elrohir wasn't holding lightly.

Elrohir let out a light laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling merrily. "He ate it?"

"No, I panicked and grabbed it out of his mouth before he could swallow it," Ioreth admitted, still smiling at the memory. "He thought it hilarious, though." She tugged on Elrohir's arm to get him to lean down closer, then whispered conspiratorially in his delicately pointed ear, "though don't tell Gilrin. She'd never let me watch him again if she knew that I let her son play with my fabric."

"I won't," Elrohir assured her, straightening back up and casting a grin at her. "You are a seamstress?" He recalled her mentioning that one of the times they had talked earlier that week when they had all returned to Imladris.

"I'm learning," Ioreth said. "My adar wanted me to learn something more useful than gardening, so I decided to work on clothes." She laughed, a soft tinkling sound that warmed Elrohir's heart. "I think he was hoping for me to marry someone and give him some more little elflings to play with. Ah, if he was here, he would spoil Duron so badly."

"And you don't?"

"Oh, I do, but that doesn't count," Ioreth retorted nonchalantly. She pulled up her skirts slightly as she and Elrohir went up a set of stairs to traverse another path to the dining halls. "I only coddle him and play with him. Ada would let him do whatever he wanted. Stuff him with sweets; let him play in the mud puddles - oh! Duron did that yesterday. I let him down for one second because my skirt was caught in some brambles and found him the next moment slashing in the midst of a pool of water. My sister about fainted when I brought him back to her covered in mud. I would have gotten him cleaned up, but I didn't have any little clothes he could wear."

"He's so tiny," Elrohir remarked, "it must be hard to make clothes for him." Glancing down at Ioreth's elegantly small hands, he added, "Well, it might not be too hard for you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ioreth mock-grumbled. "Are you suggesting that I'm short?"

"Of course not!" protested Elrohir, a grin on his face. It was true that she was somewhat petite for an elf, barely reaching his own chin. "You're just . . . vertically challenged."

"Hmph." Ioreth shoved the arm she was holding on to, but her objection was ruined by the smile creeping across her face. She'd succeeded - he was happier, even if she might be slightly annoying him by her incessant chattering.

Elrohir was indeed in a better mood. It was mostly Ioreth's cheerful spirit, but also the emotions echoing through his link with Elladan. His older brother was talking with their father, and it was apparently going well, since the main feelings from his twin was relief at being heard out. If he had to guess, Elrohir would think they were somewhere between the Healing Halls and the triple waterfalls near the main courtyard. He didn't want to intrude on Elladan's emotions too much, so he let the bond sputter in the back of his mind while he paid attention to Ioreth.

Elrohir's arm was suddenly dropped as Ioreth yanked away and dashed across the walkway, her pale blue skirts fluttering behind her. She let out a gasp as she dropped next to a small flower growing right by the path, pale golden petals fluttering. "Isilotsë flower!" she gasped. Running her forefinger along one soft petal in awe, she glanced up at Elrohir, who had followed her. "I didn't know they grew here!"

"There are very few," Elrohir finally said, startled but amused by her excitement. "One of the gardeners brought a whole group from Lothlórien and planted them here. He tends them very carefully."

"They must glow beautifully under moonlight," Ioreth breathed, brushing the flower one last time, then standing abruptly to her feet. She smiled sheepishly at Elrohir. "I am . . . a small bit interested in gardening, if you could tell."

"You should talk to one of the master gardeners," Elrohir suggested. "I'm sure they would let you help out here."

Her face lit up with delight, and it cheered Elrohir to see a smile grace her delicate features. "What a wonderful idea! I think I will do that!" She then seemed to realize she was just standing there, and offered her arm to Elrohir again, still beaming. Shall we continue?"

"Certainly." He looped his arm with hers again and they continued to the dining hall. Once they reached the arched doorway, Ioreth paused. She glanced up at Elrohir and smiled at him. "Thank you for escorting me, my lord." She glanced toward an empty table. "I will talk to you later then?"

Elrohir raised an eyebrow as he saw that she was planning to sit by herself while she ate. Casting a look over at the table where he usually ate, he noted the absence of his father and twin. Glorfindel and Erestor were there though, Glorfindel smirking at something while the Chief Counselor glowered at him. There were four empty seats, so . . . "Would you like to eat with us?" he offered.

Ioreth looked taken aback. "Well, I would love to, but I don't want to intrude -"

"Nonsense," Elrohir announced, tucking her arm closer and starting for the table. He pulled out a chair for her without even thinking about it; pushed it back in once she was seated, and then slid into the seat next to her. Erestor, on the other side of the table, offered Ioreth a nod, and Glorfindel grinned. "Glad to have you with us, Lady Ioreth."

"Glad to be here," she replied, ducking her head slightly as a faint red tinge crept up her cheeks. Elrohir noticed it and held back a grin. Looked like she had a small case of hero-worship.

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"We're leaving."

Elrohir's head flew up and he stared in confusion at Elladan, who was standing in front of him, already dressed in traveling clothes and light armor. "Pardon?"

"You heard me. I overheard a patrol captain telling Glorfindel about a group of orcs passing close by. We're going to go after them."

Elrohir slowly shut the book he had been reading. He was in the library the morning after everything that had happened yesterday, and had been hoping for a few moments of peace, but he wasn't upset at being interrupted by his brother. "Why?"

Elladan stared at his younger brother in confusion. He didn't usually question why they were going on a hunting trip. "I just - I want to get away from here. Be alone for a little while." The talk with his father had settled nothing between them, but both had come out of it feeling a little better. Right now, he wanted to leave, to get away from the stares from Glorfindel that he perceived as accusing.

Tucking the book under his arm, Elrohir stood. "Very well. I'll be at the front gate in a half hour." In a swift movement, he moved forward and placed his hand on his twin's shoulder and leaned closer to let their foreheads touch together. No words were spoken, they just let their bond swarm with emotions and thoughts for a moment, then Elrohir broke the contact and left to pack, casting one last calming look over his shoulder at his brother.

Almost thirty minutes later, Elrohir was tugging the elven rope holding his pack to make sure it was tightened completely. He heard a brief shuffling as Elladan, already mounted on his brown stallion, moved toward him.

"Ready, El?" Elladan's voice was surprisingly soft.

"Aye." Slipping his foot into the small stirrup, Elrohir swung up into the light saddle and shifted his balance, then swept up the reins. "Let's go."

They were already almost to the path that led out of Imladris when a cry came from behind them. "Elrohir!"

The twins turned as one, and Elladan raised an eyebrow at his twin when he saw Ioreth running toward them, her blonde hair flying behind her and dress fluttering. She skidded to a stop and glanced up at Elrohir, instinctively knowing which twin was which. "My lord! Where are you going?"

"Hunting trip," he said.

"O - okay." Ioreth reached up and pressed something into his hand, her large grey eyes anxious. "Be safe, then."

"I will." He patted her hand, then nudged his horse to turn, his face unnaturally serious. Elladan tapped his horse's sides and the sons of Elrond continued on their way. Ioreth watched as their tall figured disappeared from view, dark hair streaming down their back, and she heard one last farewell from Elrohir.

"Galu!" he called back to her, and Ioreth had a strange premonition that it was the last word she would hear from him in a long while.


	11. Hunting Again

As the familiar landscape of Imladris vanished behind them, Elladan smirked at his twin. The worries of the past day were put aside for the moment as he planned to tease Elrohir. "I saw that Ioreth came after you and didn't even look at me. Has anything of importance happened?"

"Not really. I invited her to sit with us at supper last night, and she accepted." Elrohir leveled his brother with a stern look. "Which you would have known if you'd been there."

"You're the one that send Ada after me."

Elrohir shrugged, accepting that, and they rode in silence for a few moments. Sneaking a glance down at his closed palm, Elrohir carefully opened it to see what Ioreth had given him. It was a fragile flower, golden petals fluttering slightly. It an Isilotsë flower, Elrohir realized as he remembered the flower Ioreth had gotten so excited over yesterday. A small smile crept across his face as he slid the flower in a pocket on his tunic.

Elladan caught the movement and grinned to himself, but decided not to comment on it. His brow furrowed as he recalled listening to the patrol captain speaking to Glorfindel. "El, did you tell anyone where we were going?"

"I didn't talk to anybody when I was getting ready to go," his twin replied.

"No one knows where we're going then. If anything bad happens -"

"Oh, I'm sure they'll figure it out, if they haven't already. Erestor was watching from the window of Ada's study when we left. He'll probably tell Ada that we left, Glorfindel will remember the report about the orcs, and they'll know where we're going." Elrohir's dissection of the problem was quick and absolute, and Elladan nodded in agreement. "You're right -"

"As always?"

"I was going to say, little brother."

Elrohir, after centuries of being called that, still didn't have a good reply. He just snorted, and a glance out of the corner of his eye showed that Elladan winced when his horse tugged sharply on the reins. "El, is your shoulder bothering you?"

"It's slightly sore, but I'll be fine."

"Your definition of fine, or Ada's?"

Elladan graced his brother with a glare and changed the subject. "The patrol captain said the yrch were about twenty miles past the river. We should find their tracks in about two hours, if we keep riding at this pace."

"Unless you want to race . . . ?" Elrohir suggested, smirking. The horses, snorting, seemed to agree.

"Whoever loses is a rotten orch," said Elladan. "And if you shove me into the river like you did last time . . ." He trailed off and left the threat hanging.

His twin just rolled his eyes and gathered his reins, patting his stallion. "Ready, Hinnor?" The gold-red horse whinnied in agreement and readied himself to spring into a gallop. He'd been Elrohir's mount since a young stallion, and was used to the races his rider would jump in at any time.

"On the count of three," Elladan suggested, preparing his own horse. Elrohir nodded in agreement, and they both tensed on their mounts' backs.

"One," Elladan called, "two . . ." He opened his mouth to call out the third number, but suddenly leaned forward and his horse leapt into action, thundering down the path. Elrohir frantically started after them, his horse whinnying in complaint. "That's cheating!"

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Lord Elrond stared out over the buildings, walkways, and waterfalls of Imladris. He stood in silence for a moment, then turned as he sensed someone coming toward him. It was Glorfindel, his hair pulled back into a long golden braid that grazed his hips. His expression was grave. "Lord Elrond?"

"You want to go after them."

Glorfindel glanced down at the light armor he wore, then nodded. "Aye. I feel that something is going to happen . . . I know that you sense it too."

Elrond sighed and fully faced his friend, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Go after them, then, but be careful. I wish I could go, but . . ."

"I know." Glorfindel had apparently been expecting him to agree, since he nodded once and turned, gracefully jogging down off the balcony. Elrond saw him a few minutes later, walking with Erestor toward the stables. They looked like they were arguing - typical, and Glorfindel apparently won, waving his left hand dramatically with his right hand propped on his sword. Erestor shook his head, his black robes gliding on the ground as he tried to tell the Balrog-slayer something, but Glorfindel turned and snapped something at him that caused the adviser to recoil, shaking his head.

Elrond watched in interest as Erestor fluttered his hand indifferently and turned, going back toward the building. Glorfindel called something after him, then shrugged, spinning and hurrying into the stables. He came out a few minutes later with the reins of a white horse, mounted in one smooth motion, then nudged the horse into a canter and they vanished down a pathway into the trees.

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"I found them!"

Elrohir pulled his stallion to a halt as he heard his brother's yell from his left. They had been searching for the orc tracks for about ten minutes so far along the stream, and apparently Elladan had just found them. "How many?" called Elrohir as he nudged Hinnor toward the place his twin's voice had come from.

"I don't know," came the reply. "It looks like they're trying to disguise their tracks. They failed miserably, of course." His voice became slightly louder as Hinnor slid between two trees and Elladan came into view, his horse's reins trailing on the ground. Elladan was dismounted, crouching on the ground and peering closely at the mashed ground. His stallion was standing patiently behind him.

"It can't be more than twenty, or Glorfindel would have sent warriors out to dispatch them," Elrohir reasoned, sliding off his horse. He gave the footprints a cursory glance and wrinkled his nose. "They passed by here recently. Even if we couldn't tell from the trail they left, their foul stench still remains."

"They were walking in a straight line," said Elladan, straightening up. His dark hair, hanging loose but for a tie that held back some from his face, swung as he turned to face his twin. "We don't know how many there are."

Elrohir raised an eyebrow. "Are you telling me you don't want to go after them?"

Elladan let out a single derisive snort, snagging his horse's reins and leaping lightly into the saddle. "Did I say that?"

Shaking his head, Elrohir jumped into his own saddle and started after his twin, who had already begun moving down the line of broken weeds and trampled ground. The stream a few yards beside trickled along its bed, gurgling merrily. They rode in silence for a few moments, then, in accord, both glanced at each other. As soon as the orcs came into view, they would do what they had always done; send their horses to a safe distance, then attack the filthy creatures until all were gone, rarely speaking during the heat of battle.

"I won."

Elladan would have happily shoved his brother if they were next to each other, but as it was, he could only give him an exasperated glare over his shoulder. "Yes, I know that."

"Even though you cheated," Elrohir felt he had to remind his brother.

"I know."

"It's because my horse is faster."

Hinnor bobbed his head in agreement, and Elladan's horse let out a disgruntled huff. Elladan reached up and snagged a pine cone off a tree he was passing under, turned, and threw it at Elrohir. The cone bounced off his twin's chest and fell to the ground.

Elrohir stared at it for a moment, then stood in his stirrups and grabbed his own pine cone. He flung it at Elladan, who ducked, and the object sailed harmlessly over his head.

"Missed!" exclaimed Elladan triumphantly, grabbing another and heaving it. This time the cone stuck in Hinnor's mane, and the horse let out a grumpy whinny.

Elrohir paused, about to snatch another pine cone, and settled back into his saddle. He patted his horse and smirked at Elladan. "I'm not going to get into a fight - one of us has to be the mature one here."

"Says the one who was gloating about winning a race."

"Hey, you cheated! I'm allowed to rub it in."

"I didn't cheat, I simply gave myself the advantage. You've done it before."

"Oh yes? When?"

"That time when we were going to drag Lindir down to shove him in the pond - remember? He was being really boring? - and you shoved me in with him!"

"That was not cheating, it was simply payback for you telling Ada I was the one who managed to get his horse in his room."

"Now that was funny," acceded Elladan, smiling at the memory of his father's shocked face at finding his mare nibbling on his bed sheets.

"It was your idea."

"It might have been my idea, but you're the one who executed it." Elladan was ready to add more when his horse suddenly let out a low snort. Hinnor bobbed his head too, rumbling a warning. The horses could sense the orcs even before Elladan and Elrohir could, and they were telling them that the orcs were near.

Immediately the banter ceased, and the twins darted from their horses' backs to land quietly beside them.

"Dartho," Elrohir ordered his stallion quietly, patting his neck. "Stay."

Both horses whickered in agreement, and dropping their heads, they backed into some underbrush to remain hidden. They were very well trained.

Elrohir ran his fingers through the fletching of his arrows to ensure that they weren't tangled, then tugged on the hilts to his twin swords strapped to his waist. He exchanged a determined look with Elladan, whose sword was already held ready in his hand, and then the twins started forward, their feet edging along with the quietness of the Firstborn.

It took almost an hour of excruciating slowness, but they finally caught sight of a group of orcs. Elladan held up a hand and Elrohir stopped, peering around a tree in the same direction as his brother.

"Filthy yrch," spat Elladan, unable to keep it in.

None of the orcs heard. There were more than a dozen, and looked like they were pausing from their tramp through the beautiful woods to take a break. Elrohir closed his eyes in disgust as one of the closer ones bit down and chewed fiercely on something that looked like a limb of one of its fellows. There was some grumbling from a few that weren't eating, and a couple were drinking something; a brackish foul-smelling water. Pairs of beady red eyes darted around the clearing, their eyes always watchful and suspicious.

Elrohir reopened his eyes and took in a deep breath, slowly pulling his bow over his shoulder. It was already strung - he never rode out of Imladris if it wasn't. Carefully removing an arrow from his quiver, he notched it and looked across the short distance to where Elladan was hiding. His twin was doing the same with his bow, and it was already strung and ready to fire. Neither needed to speak, they had done this a hundred times before. Both stepped silently from their hiding places into sight of the orcs, but none saw them yet. Raising the bows in synchronization, they pulled back to the farthest length, eying their targets, and released as one.

A shriek rose from one of the orcs as an arrow slammed into its chest, and then it slumped to the ground, dead. Another orc fell to the ground, an arrow protruding from an eye socket. Twelve pairs of red eyes flew around the clearing, searching for the attack. They found the elven twins almost immediately, and rose with a cry of outrage. A single orc recognized them however, and his eyes widened in terror, scrabbling backward and dropping the bone he had been eating. He was the single survivor of a brief but violent attack from the Peredhil twins almost five years earlier. They had slaughtered every single orc, a terrible glint in their eyes as they did so. This orc very seriously doubted he would get away again, but it was worth a try. He turned and ran, abandoning his fellow orcs to destruction - and made it almost ten yards before an arrow embedded itself in his back and he fell, dead on impact.

Elrohir let loose another deadly projectile from his bow as furious orcs charged him. Elladan had already swung his bow back over his shoulder, pulling his long sword from the scabbard and lunging forward. This was a familiar rhythm, an instinct honed by years of fighting. Elrohir would fire until the enemies were upon them, while Elladan protected him from any arrows that archers might send at them. Once the orcs had fully reached them, Elrohir would put away his bow and use his twin swords, fighting behind his brother. Back-to-back and protecting each other this way, they would literally mow through the orcs, sending the foul creatures to their deaths at the keen edge of a blade.

Spying the two orc archers dropping behind and raising crossbows to their shoulders, Elladan readied his sword. Elrohir released an arrow with a twang and immediately pulled out another one, heedless of the two bolts that were about to be fired at him. There were two simultaneous thrums as the crossbow strings were released, and identical deadly arrows whizzed through the air toward them. Faster than the eye could see, Elladan spun his sword in a dizzying silver blur and knocked the first bolt aside. He saw the second one coming too close for comfort and almost bent backwards when it hissed by his cheek, leaving a bleeding slash. Elladan briefly touched one hand to his cheek and hoped that the arrow hadn't been poisoned, then his eyes narrowed and he let himself fall into his battle stance as the orcs neared even closer.

The orcs were yet yards away, only nine remaining since Elrohir had dispatched the others with his arrows. One last arrow flew loose and slid almost silently into a malformed leathery head, killing the creature instantly. His advantage gone, Elrohir hooked his bow over his shoulder and pulled out the double swords at his waist and took a step behind him. His back slammed into his brother's, their quivers jostling - Elrohir's half-empty, Elladan's almost full. The orcs were now upon them, surrounding the twins and cutting off any chance of escape, not that they were looking for one. Matted black hair rustled and leers spread across the creatures' faces when they realized they had the elves trapped. All had at least one weapon, an ugly jagged scimitar that was caked with dirt and blood from former victims. Some held small serrated daggers in their free hand, while a few were bare-handed but for their swords.

"You know what happens now?" came a guttural growl from one of the orcs in front of Elladan.

A sneer crept its way onto the elder twin's face. "Yes. You die." His sword, formerly held loosely in front of him, blurred and drifted downwards, black blood dripping from it. The head of the orc that had spoken blinked once, then slowly slid sideways and landed with a gentle thud on the ground. The beheaded body stood for a moment longer, then crumpled, revealing two more orcs behind it. They barely spared their fallen comrade a glance, just snarled angrily at Elladan, who raised his sword and widened his arms invitingly, mockingly. Behind him, Elrohir tensed and readied his swords.

And in a rush, they came. It was never like it was during training practice, when one or two - sometimes in extreme circumstances, three - elves would jump forward and engage you at once. No, the filthy orcs all leapt forward as one, causing havoc and a muddle of bodies, but making it much easier for the two wiry elves to slither between them and stab calculatingly.

A shriek rose through the air as Elrohir stabbed his left blade into an orc shoulder. He growled - he had been aiming for the heart - and twisted it. The orc snarled in pain but wrapped crooked fingers around the slender elves blade and yanked. Knowing if he held on he would lose his mobility, Elrohir with great reluctance let go of his sword and spun the remaining one to block a blow that had been aimed at his twin's unprotected back. A moment later, he felt the air practically shimmer beside him as Elladan caught a jagged blade that had been about to puncture his side and twisted it away, stabbing the owner of the blade. Elrohir didn't need to announce his thanks, but dodged a swinging scimitar and lightly sliced along an orc's flank, eliciting an angry yelp.

Moving in complete and utter synchronization, the twins spun and slashed, protecting the other's back and blocking blows meant for the other. The orcs soon realized their mistake and scrabbled backwards, screeching desperately. Elladan and Elrohir paused momentarily to catch their breath. Elven endurance was long, but when confronted with the bane of their existence, it tired them more than they wished to admit.

Elrohir scowled when seeing that one orc still had a silver sword embedded in his shoulder, the sword that should be in his left hand right now. He glanced over his shoulder to see how his brother fared and was worried briefly to see the bleeding gash that lined Elladan's cheek. After a reassuring glance from Elladan - the wound wasn't serious - they still didn't speak but faced away again, watching the orcs and waiting for them to charge.

There were only five of the creatures left now, four other dead ones littering the ground around Elladan and Elrohir. Three were backing away from Elladan, and the other two were facing Elrohir, their eyes glimmering and desperate. They were not naturally timid beings - far from it, they attacked and marauded any living thing that came near them - but this was an alarming sight to behold. Two tall and fair elven warriors, their physical appearance so close that few could tell them apart, standing in the midst of a battle, their stormy grey eyes glinting dangerously and stern jaws set. Ebony hair drifted down over their shoulders, and even the sight of blood streaking one's cheek didn't lessen the threatening image, but made it more terrifying.

One of the uglier orcs - if Elrohir decided to rank them by how they looked - was desperately digging for something in the ugliest bag the elf had ever seen. The flesh around the eyes widened as it found what it was searching for, and pulled out a dull square trumpet. Elrohir frowned. A signal? It was raised to cracked and disgusting lips, and a deep sonorous echo came out of it, belying its small size.

"There must be more of them nearby," whispered Elladan behind him, his voice so low that only elven hearing would be able to pick it up.

"The archers!" exclaimed Elrohir suddenly, catching sight of the two other orcs much farther away. They were reloading their crossbows, straining to pull the tense strings. The twins had not forgotten about them, but put them out of their mind in the heat of battle. It took almost thirty seconds for a small crossbow like that to be reloaded, taking so much time that Elladan and Elrohir could usually disperse of half of a group. It was true this time too; there were only five sword-orcs left and two archers.

"Easy," Elladan breathed, bringing his sword up once more. The orcs had finally gotten some sense into their thick heads and figured out that the two worked closely together, cutting through the foul creatures like scissoring fabric. Showing some common sense, they had separated into two groups - Elrohir had two on his side, and Elladan three on his. The archers were still reloading, but they were much closer to Elrohir and likely both would fire at him.

Knowing it would take too long if they dispatched one group, then the next - for the signal must be calling another group of orcs from somewhere - the twins made a mutual agreement and split up, though they were unwilling to leave the other's back unprotected. Elladan went straight for the three regrouping orcs more than a dozen yards from him. With inhuman speed, he practically flew over to where they were and reengaged them, clashing swords and slicing wounds into body parts.

Elrohir was having trouble with the ones he was fighting. His fighting style was more of a parry and dodge, slicing and moving on, while his twin's was more of a hack and slice method. The swift style Elrohir used was heavily dependent on the two swords he used, but one sword was missing and he had to compensate with only his right-hand sword. As he crossed sword with scimitar again, he had to admit that though orcs were foul creatures of Morgoth, they did how to kill and the most effective way to do it. Which was currently not working in his advantage. Just my luck that I've got the smart ones over here, grumbled Elrohir mentally as he saw that one of the orcs with a knife and sword had figured out his small weakness. It roared in delight and lunged straight for his unprotected left side, swinging both jagged sword and dagger at the same time.

Elrohir immediately disengaged the sword he had knocked aside and spun his slender blade, catching the orc's sword and plunging it toward the ground. He badly misjudged the speed at which the knife was coming toward him though, and realized his mistake as a screaming pain shot through his left side. Pulling back in alarm, Elrohir backed away and pressed his left hand to the fiery wound running across his ribs. He remembered the archers in that very instant, and suddenly he jerked as something hit him in the center of his back.

It was dull, and heavy, cold metal biting into his skin. Slender yet thick at the same time . . . with dulling senses, Elrohir knew he had been hit by a crossbow bolt. The two orcs in front of him wavered in his vision, but they were far enough away not to attack now. They had strangely smug looks on their faces, something Elrohir couldn't quite comprehend. Why were they pleased? An ache started in his back, spreading forward and battling with the screaming burn in his side. He heard a yell from somewhere behind him - or to his side? He couldn't remember . . . who was it?

Oh! Elladan! How could he have forgotten? Elladan was here . . . and they were fighting orcs. Killing the foul monsters. Elrohir pulled his eyes back up - how had they plunged toward the ground? - and saw the leering orc in front of him. It was lifting a large scimitar, bringing the crooked edge up to bear with the elf's neck.

"Going to kill you, little pretty," whispered the orc, its red eyes glinting. "Then we'll have elf flesh for our dinner, how's that sounding?"

A snarl came from the other orc, which was moving a bit closer. Anger surged through Elrohir, and he lifted his right arm to cross swords, but then stared in confusion at his hand. Where was his sword? Looking down again, he saw it on the ground, lying silver and pale on the bloody ground. Ah. It was there. How had it gotten on the ground? He needed to pick it up and battle these . . . animals! Mind made up, he leaned slightly to get it and the world spun suddenly all around him. Red tinged his vision and the orcs vanished in a wave of blood.

Elrohir recalled his wounds and faintly thought that he was about to pass out, but no, it was something else. Something . . . a cape. A red cape. Elladan's! He could see ebony hair and red fabric blurring as a slender figure leapt in front of him and slashed once, twice, and spun, hurtling the silver sword in his hand. There was a choked gurgle from somewhere away . . . an archer? Elladan vanished again and Elrohir desperately hoped for him to come back. Where was he going?

Elrohir felt something warm tickling his back. It was heavy and thick, dripping down his spine and irritating him. He was still standing, but his legs wobbled unsteadily underneath him for some reason. A sharp pain snapped in his side when Elrohir tried to stop the itching on his back, rolling a shoulder. A moment after, his whole chest was consumed by fire and rippling needles. Jabbing spasms jerked his side and the wound protested loudly, sending wave after wave of abject misery to his overloading mind. His knees were crumpling under the onslaught, shock numbing his senses. There was a high-pitched noise which was brief torture to his sensitive ears, but was simply produced by his convulsing brain, and his vision blurred, sending dancing lights across his eyes. Relaxing blackness tempted him to fall into unconscious, away from the accursed pain. Something terrible lurked in the back of his mind, something that told him he was missing an important thing . . . but he didn't know what. Was he supposed to know?

Elrohir knew he was falling. The ground seemed so far below as his eyes fell to it, but it was coming toward him slowly. Blood stained the dirt, dark filthy orc blood, but there was red blood mixed with it too, a seeming overly bright color. He wondered faintly where it came from, but the answer was in the life force leaking out of the gash in his side. With a brief flash of displeasure, he knew he would hit the ground hard and probably completely lose consciousness. It would hurt.

But he was stopped, his body halted in its downward free-fall, by the gentlest of touches as something caught him by the shoulders and his weight was held by it. Elrohir's head fell back without volition and his eyes found a fair face above him, dark hair framing his face. It was like looking into a mirror, but for the bloody gash marring that face. It was Elladan.

But something was wrong. Elrohir knew that his twin's eyes were supposed to be a light grey, storm-colored sometimes when in battle, but now . . . now they were far different. It seemed like they were a black color, fading somewhat back to grey, yet the pupils were incredibly expanded, past the normal point of the iris. Something was wrong . . . he didn't have the energy to figure it out though. All he knew was that his brother was there and he was safe. Nothing could harm him while he was weak and Elladan was here, so Elrohir let himself succumb to the blessed darkness.

Misty clouds of dark smoke enveloped him in its sweet embrace, and he saw no more.


	12. Into Namo's Halls

"Can a day be normal and boring just once with the Peredhil around?" Glorfindel asked his horse. His stallion snorted without breaking stride and didn't answer, typically. "I didn't think so."

The Balrog-slayer had just found the tracks of Elladan and Elrohir at a stream near the borders of Imladris. He had been riding hard for the past two hours, trying to catch up to the twins, and figured he was less than a half hour behind them now. It looked like they had dismounted their horses back by the stream after finding the orc tracks, remounted, and continued on. Their horses' footprints were so faint that only a master tracker could find them, so light-footed were the mounts. It was a good thing Glorfindel was an elf, then.

Hooves tapped quietly over the ground as Glorfindel's horse swept through the trees with his rider scanning the ground ever so often to make sure they were on the right path. The stream was left a few miles behind them and Glorfindel was assured that he was managing to catch up, when the horse tracks suddenly – disappeared.

Glorfindel clicked to his stallion and it slowed, then halted. In mild confusion, the Elda leapt from his horse's back and scanned the ground. The occasional misplaced leaf and twig pressed into the ground had ended, leaving a perfect trail of . . . nothing. The horses couldn't have just vanished, so Glorfindel started examining the edge of the path and soon he found a few branches pushed to the side, but not broken. Following the very faint trail, he was surprised to come upon two elven horses suddenly.

One snorted in greeting and moved forward to nuzzle Glorfindel's hand, its gold-red head glittering slightly in the sunbeams creeping through the trees.

"Hinnor," said Glorfindel in recognition, stroking the velvet nose a moment and looking past the stallion to see Elladan's horse standing in the trailing branches of a willow tree. It whickered to him, but stayed where it was.

"They must have continued after the yrch on foot," Glorfindel realized, and patted Hinnor once, then turned. "Come, Hinnor, Gael. We go to fetch your master." Both horses grumbled lightly, but followed him. They would obey any order from their owners, but if another elf called them to do something else, they would do that instead.

Remounting his own white stallion, Glorfindel whistled for the two horses to follow him and nudged his mount into a canter, knowing immediately where the twins would have gone. The orcs had been heading away, barely outside the borders of Imladris. Glorfindel would have immediately gone out to dispose of them, but most of his warriors were on the west watching Trollshaw – there had been a recent flurry of activity with the few troll groups that lived there, and he didn't want to let them get out of control. The orcs were going to pass Imladris by a secure margin of a hundred miles or so, and Glorfindel was reluctantly letting them pass in peace, but only because there were almost fifty and he didn't have enough warriors near this area to fight them off safely.

Elladan and Elrohir, however, had apparently thought that they could take the whole group on. Glorfindel knew it would be hard – they were very good fighters but even the best could be taken down – and the three or more dozen orcs had split into two groups, dividing for speed. The twins probably didn't know that there were two bunches of orcs, and might be surprised.

Glorfindel had known the folly of going by himself, but Erestor had refused to the let the two guards watching the Eastern Gate go with him. "They are needed," the stubborn adviser had insisted, and Glorfindel gave in to go by himself.

Now he was almost caught up to Elladan and Elrohir, and he hoped he would make it in time. The twins' horse followed close behind, not needing a lead to keep up and stay with him.

Glorfindel's head flew up abruptly from studying the ground for tracks when he heard the low resounding blast of a horn. It wasn't the clear ringing of an elven horn, but something else – the foul noise that would issue forth from an orc trumpet. One of the orc groups was calling for aid. Elladan and Elrohir must have come upon them, and they would be overwhelmed in minutes by the second group that rushed to help.

Glorfindel leaned low over his stallion and urged it forward. Pale hooves flew over the ground, barely skimming the leaves, and the horse huffed as it gave the speed its rider asked. As they galloped toward the ensuing battle, Hinnor and Gael were left behind, Glorfindel's horse far outmatching their pace. Nearing every closer, Glorfindel could hear the clashing of swords and thrumming of released bow strings with his keen elven hearing. He dropped the reins – his horse could guide itself – and pulled the long sword from the scabbard at his waist, pulling it up and readying himself to fight. In a last flurry of speed, his horse burst through the trees and into a large clearing. The sight that met Glorfindel's eyes then seemed to freeze the blood in his veins.

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Elladan had just disposed of the three orcs beside him when he felt the shock that suddenly reverberated throughout his bond with his twin. He extended his sword in an afterthought to lop off the remaining orc's head as he turned to frantically see what had happened to Elrohir. His twin was standing upright, his grey eyes wide in surprise, the side of his tunic ripped open and a bloody wound showing through, thick liquid dribbling down his side. Elladan let out a hissed gasp as his brother's fingers slowly loosened on his sword and the slender elven blade clanged to the ground. He was terribly wounded, Elladan knew, and there were still two orcs to kill, leering as they stalked closer to the wounded twin. One still had a dripping red blade; the sword that had sliced delicate elven flesh open.

Elrohir suddenly jerked, still standing, and his eyes flickered. A short crossbow bolt protruded from his back, deadly and sharp. The archers! Elladan had completely forgotten about them - how could he?! He turned furious grey eyes to the orcs standing near the trees, but knew he had to dispose of the remaining sword-orcs first. In a wild burst of speed, Elladan flew over the trampled ground toward his brother and the two orcs. His vision seemed to blur around him and it seemed like he had somehow killed the orcs with swords, their bodies littering the ground like fallen leaves.

Anger roared in Elladan's veins, and all he could see was the two filthy yrch across the clearing. One of them had shot his twin! His arm moved violently of its own volition and his sword left his hand, flying wildly across the yard to slam up to the hilt into the orc that was still reloading. The slender hilt poked out between two beady eyes as the orc collapsed backwards, crossbow dropping from lifeless fingers. Elladan spared a quick glance to Elrohir - he was still standing, staring into nothingness, pain overcoming his senses. He would be fine - he had to be! But there would be no safety until the last orc was dead.

Elladan felt something welling up in his mind. It was a numbing dead black - not the kind that would pull him into unconsciousness, but something that promised power and strength, if only he would succumb. It whispered earnestly that Elrohir would be saved, if only he let it take over . . . and Elladan finally released the last of his control, receding into his mind and letting the black cloud swarm over him.

Everything became crystal clear suddenly. His elven vision let him see miles away, examine the tiniest leaf on a tree far from him, see the smallest ridges on an ant's back - but this . . . this was different. Angles were sharper, tree trunks curved delicately, leaves fluttered in slow motion with the faint wind. The smallest drop of blood dripping from a dead orc's nose was as clear to him as if he had been right next to it. A primal urge overcame him suddenly and he felt himself leap forward in utter fury toward the remaining orc archer.

His sword was left abandoned, still in the other orc's skull, and Elladan simply landed in front of the last archer. It backed away in terror - its bow wasn't loaded - and whimpered. In a swift violent motion, Elladan lunged and grabbed its head, twisting in one quick flash. There was a loud crack and the orc slumped. He let it fall to the ground, and turned. There was something important he had to do . . .

Unbeknownst to Elladan, who thought himself still perfectly normal, his hair was wild and tangled behind him, his eyes a deep black pool of darkness. His usually fair face was cracked with an angry leer, and eyebrows drawn low over eyes almost dripping with black fire. It was no wonder the once-brave orc archer had cowered before him.

Ah! Elladan saw someone standing in the middle of the clearing, a few orcs lying dead at his feet. His eyelids were fluttering, a look of confusion on his face. Did Elladan know this . . . person? The 'person' looked very odd to Elladan's enhanced vision. His skin was almost a perfect white, alabaster and drained of color because of the blood draining from two wounds, one on his side and one in his back. Even through the pained expression he wore, his skin seemed to glow with an unearthly light, declaring him one of the Firstborn. His eyes were a pale grey, watching something nonexistent with a faint glaze over the pupils. A light green tunic was stained with crimson, leaking red liquid down the shirt and onto his leggings.

Blood. Elladan could smell it all around him. The acrid tang of foul black lifeblood of the orcs, and the sweet-yet-bitter tang of elven blood draining from the 'person.' There was even some of the sweet-yet-bitter on his own cheek, Elladan realized with some confusion, touching a finger to the marred flesh over his cheekbone. He had been wounded himself?

Returning his attention to the 'person' across the clearing, Elladan started toward him. He felt a strange pull tugging him toward the 'person,' telling him faintly . . . somewhere . . . that everything would be well if only he could be closer. And closer he came until he stood before the 'person,' looking into eyes that were a stark contrast to his own black orbs. Elladan saw recognition in those eyes, and was bewildered. How did the 'person' know him?

It mattered not. There was an acceptance that flashed in the grey eyes, and then eyelids slid shut, veiling the piecing irises. Muscles relaxed and breathing became even, just as Elladan's arms flew out without permission to catch the 'person' himself. His hands held up the light burden, and he wondered what to do with him. He was obviously unconscious now.

His dilemma suddenly increased – he could hear jangling of weapons and the thud of heavy feet coming toward him through the trees. More of the foul creatures that he had just killed. Well, there were many solutions to this, but the black cloud swarmed again and pushed aside reason.

Elladan could have dropped the 'person' but a small tug ordered him not to, so he bent slightly to place him on the ground, on his right side because of the arrow and the wound on his left. Straightening back up, Elladan turned to face the direction the other orcs were coming from and waited.

He didn't have to stay there long. A very short time later, there was huffing and snarling as more than two dozen orcs plowed through and over bushes, hefting large scimitar and a jagged knives. More than five had crossbows, already loaded, in their large filthy hands.

Elladan still made no noise, but his eyes darkened further. And then he moved.

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Glorfindel cursed low under his breath when he saw the horrible spectacle before him. Oh yes, the twins had somehow managed to kill almost fifty orcs – the foul creatures were scattered all over the clearing – but the price they had payed . . .

The first thing he saw was Elrohir. The twin wasn't moving, lying on his side and facing Glorfindel. His eyes were shut, dark eyelashes against ivory skin, and thick blood seeped from his side to join the forming puddle around him. Orcs littered the ground all around him. But that was not what caught Glorfindel's eyes next.

It was Elladan.

The elder twin was kneeling in the midst of a tangle of bodies, his head bowed. Black filthy blood streaked his arms and hands, and licked up his legs to dirty his leggings. His hair was falling over his shoulders to brush the ground, blood matting the dark locks. His tunic was ripped in places, showing small scratches and drops of blood dotted on pale skin.

This was a disaster.

Somehow Glorfindel could sense that the worst trouble was not with the deathly pale Elrohir, but with Elladan. Why was he not with his wounded twin? Surely he could feel the pain that was evident in the fine lines even now crinkling around Elrohir's closed eyes.

So Glorfindel nudged his horse once more. It snorted in disgust at the coppery smell invading its nostrils from the dead orcs, but went forward nonetheless. "Elladan!" called Glorfindel, and wished immediately that he hadn't.

Glorfindel had not forgotten what had happened the day before. He knew it wasn't just the result of a mild concussion that had caused Elladan to attack Lindir and himself. It was something different, but he didn't know what it was, and it was no use convincing Elrond to put Elladan in the Healing Rooms for safety. How could he prove anything? Lindir had vanished somewhere and hadn't said a word about that Elladan had done. There was nothing Glorfindel could do, so he left it alone, and said nothing when Elladan and Elrohir left – but he had gone after them.

And now he was here, in the middle of this completed massacre, and wished he had left earlier to catch up with the twins, because obviously something terrible had happened. That much was evident in the unconscious younger twin, and the sight of Elladan kneeling between dead orcs with his head hanging. When Glorfindel had hailed Elladan, the twin's head came up, and Glorfindel reeled back automatically.

Those eyes . . . they were the deepest and darkest black he had seen – but for yesterday! And Glorfindel knew the same thing had happened, but it was still going on.

Elladan's face was pale, his mouth in a tight line, but the worst part were his eyes. Usually a cheery grey – but in anger or battle, when they turned stormy – they were now that same terrifying black as the day before. His dark hair framed his face, making it seem all the more intimidating.

Glorfindel gathered his stallion's reins in one hand and slowly lowered his sword. He was wary, though, of what the twin would do. Would he attack like he had last time?

No, Elladan stayed where he was, long legs folded underneath him, but with an empty expression on his face. Nothing revealed itself – not anger, pain, shame, or fury. There was nothing; it was like a blank slate.

And then Glorfindel started noticing other small details. The blood caked under Elladan's fingernails, his missing sword . . . the thick black blood smeared around his mouth, and dripping from his chin. The emotionless face. In increasing horror, Glorfindel scanned the dead bodies of the orcs. There were no blade-inflicted wounds upon the foul bodies. But their limbs were twisted and torn, necks broken and bodies splayed across the bloody ground. An arm was ripped from a body there, a leg severed with tendon and bone showing from the gaping opening in another place. Gashes Glorfindel identified as coming from hands were slashed across grotesque faces, black blood seeping from the wounds.

Glorfindel slowly turned his head back to Elladan and dismounted his horse with nary a whisper from clothing brushing against saddle. His feet hit the ground without a sound, and the only noise heard was a low shing as he sheathed his sword, but kept his hand on the hilt as he cautiously went toward Elladan. He cast a worried look over at Elrohir, who hadn't moved, and back at Elladan. Nearing the older twin, he held a hand out warily. "Elladan?"

Elladan's eyes had followed him – as far as Glorfindel could tell, since they were still the color of obsidian – to where he was now, but still made no sound.

"Elladan, what happened?" tried Glorfindel, hoping the twin wouldn't go wild again.

The ebony-haired head lowered as if in thought, and raised once more. There was no difference in expression, but then slowly a look of anger came over Elladan's face, and his lips curled back to release a silent snarl. Blood-stained teeth were revealed at the growl.

Glorfindel backed up a few feet, still watching the older twin, and decided to check on Elrohir, since after a few moments, it still didn't look like Elladan was going to move any more than he just had. Moving away slowly and cautiously, Glorfindel went the dozen or so yards to Elrohir.

He crouched behind the younger twin, still keeping a wary eye on Elladan, but looked down to see the extent of Elrohir's injuries. The worst of the two injuries was most definitely the gaping wound on the side of Elrohir's chest. He was lying on his right side, the still-bleeding gash along the ribs on his left side, and his back to Glorfindel. The other that he could see was the rusty tip of a crossbow bolt peeking through the folds of Elrohir's tunic in the back.

Bandages, water . . . herbs. He would need a lot of supplies to help here . . . raich, he wished Elladan wasn't like - that. Well, if he was wishing for things, he might as well wish for Elrond to be here. Sparing a brief moment, Glorfindel tipped his head to the sky. "Beloved Lady Estë," he started, then stopped and shook his head. The Vala of rest and healing wasn't going to help him. He shot another quick look at Elladan, who hadn't moved, then whistled for his horse.

The white stallion huffed from the edge of the clearing but started toward him, picking his way daintily over or around corpses. When he reached Glorfindel, the Elda stood to his feet and patted the horse's neck once and started pulling out the ties that held his saddlebags closed. He knew there would be trouble, and at least one wound, so as a habit had packed piles of healing supplies. Glorfindel had pulled out the two waterskins and a large pile of bandages and laid them next to Elrohir. He could only deal with one problem at a time, and since Elladan wasn't doing anything . . . life-threatening at the moment, Elrohir was his priority.

Just as Glorfindel had gotten out the herbs he thought he would need, including generous amounts of athelas leaves, when he heard a low groan coming from Elrohir. Elladan's head turned at the sound, but he didn't move other than that. Glorfindel let the healing herbs fall next to the bandages as he hurried to Elrohir and crouched beside him.

"Stay still," the Balrog-slayer cautioned, putting his hand on the twin's shoulder to keep him from moving. Elrohir's eyes flickered open, and pain lanced through them at that smallest movement, but his grey gaze came to bear on Glorfindel's face. He didn't say anything.

"Don't move," said Glorfindel once more, carefully taking his hand off. "Do you remember what happened?"

Elrohir simply stared at Glorfindel for a moment, and his mouth worked briefly, but still nothing came out of his mouth. After a minute of meeting Elrohir's pained gaze, Glorfindel tired of waiting and leaned forward. "Elrohir, I'm going to bandage your wounds. You need to lie still, penneth. I'll have to pull out the arrow in your back."

There was no affirmation or recognition of his words, yet Elrohir's eyes fluttered shut as if he was bracing himself.

Taking a deep breath, Glorfindel shifted the younger twin ever-so-slightly and pulled out the small knife in his boot to cut the back of the tunic open. It was done in one swift movement, revealing Elrohir's back and the dark arrow embedded in it. The skin was bruising rapidly around the site, blood trickling out of the wound and down pale skin to meld with his tunic. There was only an inch or so of the crossbow bolt showing, and Glorfindel winced in sympathy. This was going to hurt.

The arrow was yanked out in a flash - Glorfindel didn't want to prolong the twin's pain. Elrohir tensed, but didn't move, as instructed. Glorfindel laid the arrow aside and rapidly bandaged the wound, his fingers flying. There would be no point in stitching it since they would probably rip during the ride back to Imladris. The puncture seemed very deep, and Glorfindel was afraid that it might have hit a lung, but there was nothing he could do to find out, unless . . .

Glorfindel finished the bandage with a last tie and gently pulled Elrohir onto his back to examine the side wound. A low groan emitted from Elrohir's lips, and Glorfindel looked up quickly just as the twin coughed. A dark fear filled the Elda when he saw the bright red blood staining his lips.

Another cough wracked Elrohir's slender frame, a violent cough, and more blood dribbled from his lips to stain his chin red. He let out a low gasp after and his back arched, trying to get away from the pain of his side wound. Glorfindel immediately pressed down on his chest to keep him from rising and watched helplessly as crimson drained from the wounded elf's side and mouth.

After scrabbling for purchase, Elrohir slowly relaxed and looked up slowly at the golden-haired Balrog-slayer. His right hand rose and he wiped away the liquid staining his mouth red.

"Glor -" Elrohir started, but his voice was so low and torn that Glorfindel could not hear him, so he leaned forward to listen better. Elrohir cut off mid-word and said something else, a plaintive question as he searched futilely, roving with his pained grey eyes. "El?"

"He's nearby," assured Glorfindel, glancing up to insure that the elder twin was indeed still crouching about twenty yards from them. Elladan's eyes were trained on his younger brother, yet no recognition entered his own empty, dark eyes.

"Can't . . . feel him," Elrohir managed to gasp out, choking momentarily, but regaining his breath. His hand dropped from his mouth and pressed over his heart. "Hurts."

"You've been shot," Glorfindel said, almost choking himself, but for a different reason. Elrohir's lungs were most certainly punctured, at least one of them, and there was no way Glorfindel would be able to heal it. There was no cure for that. With a terrible certainty, Glorfindel knew Elrohir was dying. He had seen death before, far too many times, and this was another add-on to the horrible list. The only thing he could do was comfort him as he passed - but no! The Firstborn were not meant to die! Why would this happen to Elrohir? How could he - a warrior, nonetheless - ease the passing of one of the Peredhil he was sent back to Middle Earth to protect? There was no time to think of such things, though.

Glorfindel bent closer as Elrohir tried to force out something else. The younger twin failed and instead broke into a fit of coughing, his head tucking in and legs curling to ease the pain. It did not help. Glorfindel pulled up Elrohir's head to help him, though fire screamed down the twin's back at the movement, and a few seconds later, he let out one last dry cough and stopped. Red fluid coated the side of Elrohir's mouth now, and drops flecked the front of Glorfindel's tunic. He didn't even notice.

"Have -" choked Elrohir, his eyes losing focus for a moment and then determinedly coming back to bear on the Elda. "Have - the dark . . . c - " He broke off and another convulsion ripped through him. Glorfindel caught the twin's shoulders and held him tight while more blood broke with each cough and stained the front of both shirts red. This time Elrohir let himself be forced still and fell back to the ground when it was over, barely registering the pain that shrieked up his back at the jolt.

"Ada," tried Elrohir again, forcing back the coughs that threatened. "Tell Ada - it's a . . . " He trailed off and fell to short gasps, trying to hold in another convulsion.

Elrond! Glorfindel shook away the awful images that came with that thought - how Elrond had been when his beloved wife had died - and shifted his legs to pull Elrohir onto his lap. It would be far more comfortable for the twin this way.

"He's . . ." came a wheeze from Elrohir, and then his whole body shook as his life fluid poured up from his lungs and he choked. His arms spasmed and Glorfindel once again pushed the limbs down while he struggled. The fit passed, but lasted much longer this time, almost twenty seconds. Elrohir's shirt was coated in blood now, both from the still-gaping wound in his side and the liquid now dripping from his nose and mouth.

Elrohir relaxed in Glorfindel's grip and stared up at the Balrog-slayer with his almost childlike eyes. For a moment, Glorfindel could remember him as a tiny little elfling, standing with arms outstretched and visibly pleading to be picked up. The eyes were still so much alike, but now . . . now they were filled with suffering. Glorfindel watched as Elrohir gave up the effort to speak and his whole body loosened. The pain in the grey orbs didn't decrease, but there was an acceptance there too, one Glorfindel knew all too well. A small tinge of pain and regret tinted Elrohir's eyes too, but he knew what was to come and he yielded without a fierce pull.

"No." Glorfindel didn't even realize he had spoken as he leaned closer, fearing to see what would happen next. An apology creased the fine lines around the calming grey eyes, but then Elrohir's breathing became staggered and stopped altogether. His eyes stayed open, yet unfocused. The brilliant light in them faded and a glaze crossed over his eyes as he breathed his last.

"No!" Glorfindel shuddered violently, his breaths short and jerky. A slow appalling realization came over the Elda as he felt Elrohir's fëa flutter loose from his body and sail away into the sky.

Then the great Balrog-slayer bowed his head over Elrohir's body and wept - he wept for the loneliness Elladan would suffer, for the deserted Elrohir who had been left by his brother at the time of his death by some strange malady affecting Elladan, for the horror Elrond would feel seeing another lost family member, for everything Elrohir's family and friends would feel, for Glorfindel's own failure at protecting him, and most of all, for Elrohir who had been taken for some reason far too early.

And the trees bent their branches in grief and the world quieted around the mourning of a Firstborn, while a darkling elf who once knew himself as Elladan watched with curious eyes; eyes black as midnight and roiling with darkness.


	13. Strange Lights and a Storm

Glorfindel didn't know how long he had been kneeling beside Elrohir, the younger twin's eyes staring up blankly at the cloudy sky above. Blood caked his mouth and chin, an occasional drop plopping down to land on his tunic. Glorfindel's head was bowed and his tears were drying on his cheeks when he heard a soft tread behind him.

Elladan! The Balrog-slayer jerked his head and watched as the elder twin came closer to his brother lying lifelessly on the cold ground. His head was cocked inquisitively, eyes still that terrible black, and he crouched slightly as he moved toward Elrohir and Glorfindel.

Slowly, Elladan knelt next to Elrohir and peered down at the pale face. He blinked once, and looked up at Glorfindel, eyebrows furrowing in evident confusion.

"Gone?" came a plaintive question. The voice was Elladan's, and Glorfindel didn't know why he would think it would be different. It was the first word he had heard from him while in that . . . that form with the soulless black eyes. At least it proved he wasn't totally heartless.

Glorfindel had no idea what to say, so he just turned his head away.

Elladan leaned slightly forward and studied the almost white features. A pained expression crossed his face, and he unconsciously reached up to rub over his heart. Glorfindel wasn't paying attention when suddenly Elladan's attention was caught by something odd playing across the younger twin's face.

Curiously, Elladan bent closer and dared to bring a hand up to softly graze across Elrohir's lifeless cheek. A spark seemed to leap from his hand to the empty face, and Elladan's dark eyes flickered, an almost normal look trying to come back into his once-grey eyes. It was pushed back though, and when Glorfindel looked at him again, the eyes were the same horrible black.

Glorfindel sighed deeply and bent over Elrohir once more. He needed to take the young Peredhel back to his father, where . . . he didn't want to think about it. Forcefully expelling all thoughts but to bring Elrohir to Imladris, Glorfindel carefully slid his arms underneath the limp body. He watched Elladan closely; making sure the older twin wouldn't try anything, which is why he missed the strange play of light across Elrohir's face. Starting to stand, Glorfindel glanced down and actually flinched in shock. What was that?!

The reason for his startle was evident. The eyes were open and empty as they were moments before, but along the column of Elrohir's pale neck, something white was moving. Underneath the skin, moving with the veins, silvery liquid – or light? – writhed down and vanished into the folds of his tunic. More lines of the strange white light moved up, slowly reaching for Elrohir's strong jaw and past it, slithering and weaving in stripes up his face.

Glorfindel immediately dropped the twin, jerking his arms away, but wincing involuntarily when the slender body hit the ground with a small thud. Elladan watched with an impassive look as Elrohir lay utterly still while the bizarre lines crept past his nose and wove a delicate pattern around his eyes. It slowly appeared in pulsing lines on his forehead, the ends vanishing into skin hidden under dark hair.

The Balrog-slayer stared with disbelief and confusion. Nothing moved around them but a shifting of hooves from Glorfindel's horse, and silence reigned all around. The light blazed, then faded slowly before glowing brightly again. The cycle repeated itself, and for long moments Glorfindel waited, wondering if he had lost his mind.

He didn't move forward even when small tendrils of the lines whispered toward Elrohir's open eyes, staring up at the darkening sky above. The grey orbs were slightly glazed, as if in sleep, but were unmistakably lifeless. The luminous tracings dipped delicately into the white of the eyes, trailing toward the light grey irises and black pupils. Moving in synchronization, they met in the middle of the eyes and started spreading back outwards, filling in the empty spaces with a flickering white light. The color in Elrohir's eyes vanished under the ivory glow, and within the slightest moment, the lines on his face started to fade and the glow in his eyes increased. It burned with an intensity that made Glorfindel lean backwards, knowing now that he was not imagining this, but that something beyond his power to know was happening before him.

Elladan did not move, but seemed to move forward, even, as the light in his brother's eyes blazed to new heights. Glorfindel could not look at it, for fear of his own eyes burning away. It could be compared with the blazing of the sun, moving ever closer.

And then, at the heights of furious combustion, a gasp came from Elrohir. Glorfindel could hear it as if he had been leaning close to the younger twin's mouth. He tore his eyes from the terrible glow emanating from Elrohir's eyes and moved them to his chest, watching in hope – but still confused – for any movement of the lungs. It came but a second later, Elrohir's chest rising desperately for breath, and his body tensing in shock.

Elladan still didn't move.

A low inarticulate howl broke free from Elrohir's lips, and his hands flew out to grasp at the ground, back arching. Whatever was happening caused him immense pain, apparently. Glorfindel knew not what to do, but that he had to keep Elrohir from thrashing, so he grabbed his slender arms firmly and pushed them to the ground. Elrohir relaxed for a split second, and the Balrog-slayer thought he would be fine, but then, with another shriek, the twin jerked wildly and threw Glorfindel back almost five feet.

All this time, the light was beaming brighter, almost veiling Elrohir's face in its intensity. Glorfindel started back for Elrohir, yet he could not come any closer. Some strange force pushed at him, almost physical in the fervor. Glorfindel became aware of wild emotions filling the air, pain and pleasure and hate and love, so many more, violent in their ferocity and whirling like the wind itself. Elrohir lay like the center of the storm, slowly calming and his body loosening. His older brother knelt beside him; face stoic and taciturn, but watching him closely. His eyes were intense, black and void.

The glow seemed to increase even more, if it was possible, then everything suddenly – froze. Elrohir's breathing paused and his body became lax, the emotions dancing through the air suspending, Glorfindel feeling himself, his reflexes, slow, even the trees seeming to hold their breath. The air thickened with tension.

And it exploded in a wild fury of light. The brilliance radiating from Elrohir's eyes burst into flurries, expanding outwards at an incredible speed. Glorfindel was thrown backwards, his head hitting the ground with a shrieking jolt. His vision blurred and slowly vanished under the onslaught of strange vehement radiance. An odd sense of peace washed over him as he felt his consciousness flee, and then he knew no more.

But if Glorfindel had still been cognizant, he would have seen what had happened. The light that had blasted from – seemingly – Elrohir's eyes increased in a wider circle, dimming as it went. It swept through bloodied grass, quivering the delicate blades, sweeping fussily over the dead orcs; until by the time it reached the farthest edges of the clearing, it had faded into white flurries and vanished with delicate twirls. The trees shivered with delight when the light reached them, and even Glorfindel's horse huffed in pleasure when it washed over him. Elladan had promptly collapsed when it had hit him; against the nature of the Firstborn his eyes shut.

But the violent luminosity had only affected the elves. All three lay silent and still on the ground, darkening under the sky that was becoming heavy with rain. Only a few moments after the outburst had occurred, two horses came from the forest, one completely silent, the other whickering softly at the sight of his master lying immobile on the cold forest floor. As if giant guard dogs, the two moved to stand over the twins, Gael breathing down at Elladan's face in brief curiosity. When there was no reaction, the horse raised its head and glared at the dead orcs all around, as if daring them to even try to get up and hurt his lovely rider.

Glorfindel's horse moved to wait patiently beside his own golden-haired warrior, hooves held balanced and ready to run. His nostrils flared in disgust at the acrid stench of orc flesh, but he stood his ground. Elven horses did not frighten easily.

The trio of brave stallions did not have to wait more than ten minutes before a lithe body stirred.

Glorfindel slowly came to as he sensed a large presence situated almost directly above him. His eyes were open, but he had to blink to regain his vision. As his eyes came into focus, all he could see was the sleek white underbelly of – a horse? "Ai!" he exclaimed in shock, and then relaxed suddenly when a slender head came down to stare at him and he realized it was his horse. "An ngell nîn," Glorfindel said, meeting the stallion's dark gaze, "please get off of me."

The horse snorted as if to say, I wasn't on you, silly, but he moved a few feet away nonetheless. Glorfindel lay for a moment longer, trying to regain his strength and remember what had happened.

With a sudden rush, the memories came flying back, and he let out an involuntary gasp, sitting up swiftly. How long had he lain there? With a quick glance at the sun halfway across the sky, he surmised that it hadn't been longer than a half hour and immediately rose, hurrying to Elrohir's side. Hinnor backed away with a rumble deep in his chest, leaving the elf to far more capable hands.

Befuddlement came over the Elda when he dropped to his knees next to the unconscious younger twin. Elladan was lying a few feet away, his eyes closed – hopefully in a healing sleep. He didn't have time to think about that now, though. Leaning closer and examining Elrohir, Glorfindel scanned the ridges and curves of his face, then his neck where he had seen the strange light. There was no sign of it now, and Glorfindel would have thought that he had imagined it, if not for the joyous tinkling of the trees nearby that were in wild abandon because Elrohir was not dead, and because of the energy that had coursed through them because of the light.

And of course, how could he forget the now-steady rising of Elrohir's chest, his lips fluttering with each breath, and his eyes half-lidded, but not with that terrible blank stare to them anymore. With nervous but deft hands, Glorfindel pulled back the blood-caked tunic at Elrohir's side to see the jagged wound –

– But! The wound was almost gone! A pale line marred the smooth flesh, leaking the occasional slither of blood. Eyes protruding, Glorfindel carefully turned Elrohir and pulled on the bandage he had so rapidly placed on a half hour ago. A few herbs toppled to the ground when he tugged the cloth off. The Balrog-slayer gaped again.

There was nothing but a small hole! It was slightly bruised and red, but looked like it had been healing for a good two weeks already!

Now Glorfindel was no healer – he knew how to treat basic injuries, and what the essential herbs looked like – but he knew a healing wound when he saw one. There was no physical way that it would be able to fix itself that quickly – although that light that had emanated from Elrohir earlier certainly hadn't been something physical. Maybe that was the reason for the strange healing?

Well, Glorfindel knew he wouldn't learn anything if he didn't get back to Imladris for Lord Elrond's help. No matter if he even knew exactly what was going on, a father deserved to know what had happened to his sons – and something important had definitely occurred. Well, Glorfindel wouldn't be surprised if Elrond already knew that "something" had happened, because of the unspeakable that he wore. And it wasn't only Elrohir that had something odd happen to him. Remembering Elladan with a sinking heart, the Balrog-slayer turned to see what had happened to the elder twin.

Elladan lay motionless on the ground, his eyes shut, and his breathing calm and even. His face still had blood marring the alabaster skin, and his tunic was slashed in small spots, caked with crimson, but looking closer, Glorfindel could tell that there were no wounds on his body – at least not that he could see. His hair was spread out on the ground like a raven-colored pillow around him, and but for the blood, he would have looked utterly peaceful.

Tearing his attention away from the Peredhil twins, Glorfindel glanced around the clearing and saw the three horses waiting patiently. Dead orcs still littered the ground like heaps of dung, but they seemed unimportant at the moment. He could send someone to burn the corpses after he got Elladan and Elrohir back.

Mission decided, Glorfindel climbed to his feet and set to work.

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

Ioreth glanced up at the darkening skies, clouding over even though it was still mid-morning, and a slight frown marred her delicate features for a moment, then she shrugged and bent her head back to her work. She was in the triangular flowerbeds right inside the Main Gate in Imladris, pulling out stubborn weeds. The job was granted to her after almost an hour of begging a gardener to let her help. He had finally acceded, giving her a bucket to put the discarded grass in, and an apron to keep her gown clean. Well, somewhat clean. Kneeling in the dirt didn't help it much.

If only she had remembered to braid her hair this morn; since she was bending over, the strawberry blond strands kept falling over her shoulders and tickling the dirt. With a resigned sigh, she flipped a long tendril back over her shoulder and tugged out another weed. But for that small problem – and the fact that it looked like it would soon rain – she was quite happy. Gardening in any way, shape, or form was very enjoyable for her. As a Sylvan elf, she felt the connection to plants more strongly, and felt delight in seeing them well-tended. She knew almost every type of flower, tree, and small plants, including their healing properties – although she would ever be considered a healer. She knew practically nothing about how to even apply a bandage.

Of course, gardening was not a way to make a living, so to help her father Ioreth had started making clothes almost a century ago. Her skill improved rapidly, and soon her friends were asking to make dresses and gowns for them. She was glad to comply, since sewing took up some of her spare time, and it added a little income with her father's own earnings. This visit to Imladris was to help her sister Gilrin with her new elfling. She would have come sooner, but her father worked in the Guard and was gone most of the time, and he couldn't escort her to the Last Homely House. Naturally, it was far too dangerous for a female to travel alone, and her chance had come when the twin sons of Elrond had come to . . . deliver a message for her King Thranduil? She still wasn't sure exactly why they had been there, but they had been quite useful, agreeing to accompany her back home.

Ioreth smiled in fondness thinking about Elrohir, the younger. He wasn't as outgoing as Elladan, but he had his own charms. He was somewhat quieter, while Elladan was outgoing, but he was wonderful company. Let it never be said that the Peredhil twins weren't engaging – not to mention attractive. Her cheeks reddened at that thought, and she went back to yanking weeds furiously.

She was interrupted only a few moments later by the soft tone of one of the female gardeners leaving the area. The slender dark-haired Noldo was acquainted with Ioreth's sister – they both volunteered sometimes in the Healing Halls – and Ioreth had met her earlier.

"Lady Ioreth," called the elleth. "It's going to storm soon; you might want to come inside. They are preparing the Hall of Fire for feasting since the rain will be hard and long throughout the night."

"Thank you," Ioreth said. She smiled at her. "I will be in soon."

The elf nodded once and left, her skirts swishing around her ankles.

Ioreth stood with a relieved sigh, gracefully arching her back to stretch and swinging the bucket beside her. Glancing down at her dress, she was dismayed to see that the hem was muddied. "Ohh . . . I'll have to change before I go to the Hall of Fire." She sighed lightly, but not too upset, since she would have to go to her chambers to freshen up anyway.

Ioreth started to the room she had been given, humming a lullaby under her breath, once she had gotten from her mother. Ah, her mother. Unlike others – including the Lady Celebrían – her mother had left for the Undying Lands simply because her father believed it was becoming too dangerous, and was afraid to keep her here. Agreeing sweetly to her husband's wishes, she had gone – quite happily, Ioreth thought. Her mother had never had too much love for the race of Men, and did not wish to see their Age that seemed to be rapidly approaching. Ioreth's father had begged his two daughters to go with her, but Gilrin was happily married and planning to stay for a while longer, and Ioreth simply did not wish to leave Middle Earth yet. She was still young and planned on finding someone to bond with and possibly birth many elflings to spoil, just like she spoiled her sister's son Duron. That little adorable scamp, Ioreth thought as she delicately padded down a set of stairs. He's going to be quite the heart-breaker when he grows up.

Her thoughts were interrupted by an elf suddenly barreling around the corner and almost running her over.

"Terribly sorry, please forgive me!" he exclaimed, and then continued.

Ioreth stared in confusion after the retreating figure as she realized it was Lord Elrond. His grey eyes had been wide with either shock or horror. What could be of such urgency to make the regal figure run like that? She was stopped from musing about it by yet another ellon coming from the same direction, his steps just as hurried but somehow more . . . collected. It was Lord Elrond's Chief Counselor, Erestor, she remembered, recalling that she had seen him last night at the evening meal. And, of course, he was the one who greeted her when she first came to Imladris.

His customary black robes brushed the ground lightly as he passed, and his dark eyes studied her coolly for a moment, then he nodded and continued on after Lord Elrond. What of such importance could make two of the most important elves in Imladris move so swiftly toward the goal? Her natural – sometimes cursed by her father – curiosity overcame her and she started after them.

When she rounded the corner, she immediately wished that for once, she had held back inquisitiveness. The sight before her was not one easily forgettable.

Glorfindel, mighty Balrog-slayer, was seated in his white stallion's saddle, holding an unconscious Elrohir. The young twin's head lolled back, limbs lax, and his eyes stared unseeingly into the air, almost like they were looking straight at Ioreth. She shivered involuntarily and caught sight of his older brother.

Elladan was slumped – also insensible – over his horse's neck, his legs lashed firmly to the saddle. A few other elves were quickly untying him, while Lord Elrond held his side for when he would fall, support from the ropes gone.

Ioreth's light grey eyes darted back to Elrohir, grasped tightly by Glorfindel. Erestor stood beside the horse, his arms reaching up to catch the younger twin. Glorfindel was shaking his head, speaking something that was drowned out in the bustle around them. Even more elves were coming to help, some holding another horse – Hinnor! Elrohir's stallion! – Ioreth remembered. The horse was tossing his head nervously, not used to so many hurrying around him. Typical of an elven horse, though, his feet stayed planted as some grooms pulled his tack off.

Ioreth realized she had dropped the bucket with weeds in it, but found that she didn't care. Edging forward into the courtyard, her view of Elrohir was hindered by tall ellyn going past her, eager to assist. Worry crept through her and gnawed at her heart when no reassuring words came from even one of the Elf lords.

An unexpected commotion came from where Elrond and some more elves were trying to get Elladan down. There was an alarmed whinny from Gael, Elladan's pale stallion, and Ioreth strained to see what was happening.

"Get back!" roared someone close enough to observe, and suddenly the small crowd surged back, giving Ioreth an unhindered view of what was happening. Elladan was suddenly conscious, his eyes wild and frightened – and black, like a startled deer. There was no . . . there was no white. It was terrifying, and utterly confusing at the same time. She had no idea what that meant, but it seemed to be something important by the way no one dared to near him.

His mouth opened wide in a silent snarl, but nothing escaped his lips. His long black hair was loosened from its braid, unbound and tangled. Blood streaked his face, dotted his torn tunic, and decorated streaks on his skin. Strangely enough, there seemed to be no wounds, though it was certainly elven blood on him. What had happened on their orc hunt? Ioreth realized she didn't really want to know.

A feral look was fixed on Elladan's face, and coupled with the horrible black eyes, made him look like some untamed creature, something with nothing to guide it but natural instincts. He seemed to be looking for something, though, head snapping back and forth as he glanced around slightly terrified. Was it the crowd surrounding him?

"Elladan!" cried a familiar voice, and Ioreth recognized Lord Elrond as he pushed his way back through some elves and neared the mounted figure. "Elladan, ion nín, look at me!"

The elder twin complied; it didn't look like he had understood his father's words, but had rather reacted to a new threat. His hands on the reins tightened and his head came up sharply, horrifying black eyes gazing on him sharply.

And that proved just the distraction a certain golden-haired elf had been waiting for.

Glorfindel had carefully deposited Elrohir in Erestor's hands, knowing the adviser would take care of him, and hurried toward the turmoil around Elladan, who he had just brought into Imladris. He hadn't wanted to tie the older brother to the back of his own horse, but he couldn't hold both of the insensate twins on his own stallion. Moving quickly through the growing mass of elves, Glorfindel had come ever closer. He had gotten near enough to Elladan that he could see – for the third time – that the young Peredhel's eyes were once again pure and icy ebony. Nothing warm and grey radiated from those cold orbs, only slight panic and something akin to anger. So the Balrog-slayer had two choices. Wait to see what could happen – which was never a good idea when you didn't know what you were dealing with – or knock out the twin and possibly suffer the wrath of Lord Elrond.

Figuring the second option to be the safer – if not wiser – choice, Glorfindel quietly unsheathed his sword and moved forward. As soon as Elrond called for Elladan, he knew he had his chance. Moving like the wind itself, Glorfindel broke free of the group all around him and into the clearing circle, leaping up and spinning his sword. His left leg landed lightly on Gael's hind-quarters, startling the horse, but not enough to knock Glorfindel off. His sword twirled delicately and he caught it loosely by the edge of the hilt, and then slammed it violently into the back of Elladan's head with the blunt edge.

The twin slumped over without even another second passing, and everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief, even Ioreth.

Her grey eyes wide with shock, Ioreth tried to figure out what had just happened. Much earlier that day, Elladan and Elrohir had left Imladris to hunt some orcs, apparently. She had figured that much out, and knew they weren't just out to get some deer. Glorfindel had left after them almost an hour later, and returned a few minutes ago with both of the twins unconscious. Elladan had just regained consciousness, went a little crazy, then been smacked in the head with a sword, causing him to pass out again. Now . . . Ioreth had no idea what to do. She couldn't help, since that seemed to be well taken care of. The other elves around her seemed to have recovered from their initial surprise and surged forward to aid again.

Ioreth just stood where she was, feeling quite useless. She looked through a gap as a few elves went past and saw Lord Elrond's Chief Counselor with Elrohir draped over his arms. The adviser looked decidedly uncomfortable, but had somehow managed to hold up the younger twin without staggering. Not one elf was moving to help him, apparently thinking that he had it all under control. Elrohir didn't even appear to have been affected by what had just happened, blissfully unaware that his brother had just been rendered insensible by Glorfindel, the twins' former weapons instructor. His eyes were still half-open and blank with sleep.

As Ioreth tried to decide on what she could do to help, she heard a low rumble of thunder. Looking up, she saw the thickening rain clouds and knew that it was about to start pouring. She moved forward immediately, knowing what she had to do.

Just at that moment, the skies opened and fat droplets rained from the sky, effectively mimicking everyone's mood in that moment. The storm began raging in earnest seconds after, drenching everyone in the courtyard.


	14. Trapped Inside His Mind

Elrohir was asleep, that he knew even from the depths of his mind. But he was too occupied with other things. He first tried to come back to consciousness, but something powerful kept him floating in the halls of some part of his mind, and though he could sense what was happening around him, he could not respond to it or even move.

He could feel his brother's calming presence close by, his father's worried one, and even the light airy aura of Ioreth, but there was no sign of the commanding yet playful air that Glorfindel had. There was the occasional soothing touch of another healer, but he payed them no mind. He was going to try and figure out what was happening inside. Inside his own troubled mind. Time held no meaning here, so it wouldn't matter how long he spent.

He was gathering up the courage to go into the whirling cesspool of flashing lights and thoughts that were held back behind a barrier he discovered. Right now he was floating outside of it, without of physical body of course, but more like an entity with thought and emotion. It was strange, this light. The only times Elrohir walked inside his own mind was when he was deeply asleep in the waking dreams of elves. Of course, that meant he had spent plenty of time in here, and he knew where everything was. The halls and rooms and boxes of memories where his sleep took him were quite familiar, but there had always been this odd room at the end of a far corridor that he had never entered.

Far earlier, when he had felt himself dying, the door had been forcibly opened by something outside his own body, and he had been abruptly shoved back into his hröar by the same thing that opened the door momentarily, right before he had felt himself tugged toward the Halls of Mandos. A disappointment had filled him then, but now that he was back where he belonged, he was relieved. He didn't want Elladan to go through the same horror he had felt when their bond had snapped, but if only he could get out of his accursed mind! He felt like he had been in it far too long, but also knew there was something he must find out here. Apparently the thing that had sent him back to his body had also reclosed the door, since he was no more overwhelmed by the odd light he had felt briefly before.

After much searching – the memories of elves are long and detailed – Elrohir had found the mysterious door. He knew that it had been opened earlier, since the 'locks' that had been on it were gone, and an extraordinary white light gleamed from underneath the door.

Mustering up his courage, he moved toward, feeling acutely the quietness of his own mind, and the bustle of the world outside. He paused right outside the door and reached forward, his being forming a type of hand as he did so. Cautiously gripping the doorknob, Elrohir twisted it and slowly pulled. The door blasted open, and immediately he was overwhelmed by a screaming burning white fiery light rushing around and all over him.

He was thrown back, and he could feel his body responding to the turmoil inside his mind, thrashing wildly, but that was not his concern at the moment. He had to fight back against this, he must! It was pouring past him and into the halls of memories, and he should have been alarmed, but somehow he knew it would not harm him. It was wildly disconcerting, however, and Elrohir forced his entity to move up and back against the onslaught. A sudden realization came over him, then, that this was part of him, and not a strange being inside his own mind. Therefore, he must be able to control it.

With that firm idea, Elrohir let the light wash over him, and it settled somewhat as it roared out the door, like a lake that had been held back by a dam that was eventually slowing as it filled his mind and thoughts and memories. He could feel it taking hold of him, pouring into the niches and crannies of his intellect, and he knew that it was affecting his body as well. Since he didn't know what was happening outside his mind at the moment, he decided just to focus on his mind.

Control. Elrohir let that thought echo around in his mind for a moment, then again, Control. I will control you.

The light payed no mind, of course, as it wasn't alive and had no consciousness, but the idea he had sent out calmed Elrohir and he could feel his body settling down outside his mind. The light still washed over him, swarmed around him, but it didn't bother him anymore and he wasn't affected by it. Stretching out his thoughts and power, Elrohir snagged the most powerful part of the light he found and brought it into the favorite part of his memories – the times when his mother was still in Imladris, and his brother and he ran around causing mischief in the peaceful valley.

Control, thought Elrohir again, and forced the brightness into a type of ball, then flung it with all his might. It vanished right into the wall of his mind, and here was a roar and smashing sound from somewhere outside his mind, outside his . . . body. This light could affect things physically then? Curiously, the younger Peredhil caught up another part of light, twisted it into an orb and threw it again. Once more, the light vanished into the walls of his mind and there was a smashing from outside his mind.

How odd. It must be wrecking something, Elrohir realized. This might not be the best idea, since now that he was paying more attention he could sense the panicked presences of his father, Ioreth, and a few more people out there. Retreating back into his mind – he would never want to hurt someone – Elrohir extended his full force and grabbed every part of the light he could find. With a powerful yank, he forced it all back to the room it had come from. Writhing and dancing around him, it didn't protest when he pushed it inside, making sure to collect up all of the pieces and particles. With a firm decision, Elrohir slammed the door shut again, then paused and looked at the barrier.

It seemed old somehow, though his mind could never decay – as a Firstborn, it wouldn't happen – and he decided that it needed to be fixed. Barely casting it more than a mental glance, the door repaired itself, standing straight and tall. Paying it a little more attention, Elrohir saw that he had accidentally made it crystalline, and he could see through it to the dancing light inside. The radiance was almost hypnotizing, writhing and swirling with tendrils of all colors churning in the confines of the part of his mind. It was a good place for it.

Elrohir pulled away forcibly and moved his presence down the halls of his memories. He was trying to find the way that would lead him back to consciousness, but it evaded him neatly. It frustrated him immensely, since in all of his memories he had never been kept from waking up – wait. Unless . . . there was one thing. An herb potion.

Had his father drugged him?

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

"Pardon me," came a soft voice from behind Lord Elrond. He turned his head to see Ioreth in the doorframe with a bundle in her hand. "I got the herbs you requested."

"Thank you," Elrond said simply, and took them, then turned back to his sons. They were lying beside each other in separate cots, about a dozen feet from the other, both in white leggings and a loose tunic; faces pale and listless grey eyes staring up at the ceiling. They were identical in every sense of the word, now that the blood from their excursion had been washed off. The one thing Elrond could not figure out was the blood.

There was unmistakably elven blood on the clothes they had worn – plenty of black orc blood on Elladan's – but there weren't enough wounds to account for the blood. Elrohir had a scar on his side, one that Elrond had never seen before, and on his back was a small, quickly healing wound that occasionally leaked the smallest drops of blood. That had been bandaged easily enough.

Also what Elrond could not discover was what was keeping them asleep. Neither had suffered a concussion, that much was certain because of their perfectly normal eye dilation, but they were locked inside their minds nonetheless. He couldn't help but wonder if it was just one of them that had the problem, and the other was only feeling it through their close bond and mimicking the effects.

"May I help in any other way?" asked Ioreth in an anxious voice.

Elrond realized he had been standing there doing nothing for a few moments, so he moved to the table that was beside the door and started making a tea from the herbs and hot water in a pitcher. He cast a glance at Ioreth. "You've helped me aplenty. I thank you for that – I'm afraid there is nothing more that can be done now, though."

Ioreth nodded respectfully, but Elrond caught the concerned look she sent Elrohir, lying closer to the door than his older twin. Hm . . . Elrond had noticed that Elrohir had been slightly distracted lately, and suspected a female interest, but he hadn't know it was her. Apparently Elrohir's affections were returned, and Elrond was glad, since his sons obviously couldn't stay without a mate forever – but this wasn't exactly the time. Right now he needed to find out what was happening with the twins, and make sure it wasn't dangerous, then he might allow some . . . relationships to form.

"Could I have a moment of privacy with my sons?" Elrond asked the maiden kindly.

Ioreth nodded again and backed out, almost tripping over the low step in her haste. "Yes, my lord. Terribly sorry." She pulled the door shut behind her and stopped outside, taking in a deep breath. This was the first time she had met Lord Elrond, though she had been here more than a week already. His calming presence managed to unnerve her instead of soothe her, just constantly reminding her that she was right next to the most powerful elf in Imladris. Somehow she had managed to keep missing him when she first arrived, though she visited Elladan when he was unconscious a few times, and hadn't seen him at dinner yesterday evening – with a start, Ioreth realized that only one day had passed. So much had happened, though, it seemed like forever!

Earlier that day, when she had seen Erestor struggling with Elrohir, she had hurried to help him, unwittingly volunteering herself to also assist in bringing the younger twin to the Healing Halls, then lay him in a room next to his brother, then – well, she had obviously left the room when Lord Elrond started bathing the twins. About thirty minutes later, Lord Elrond had popped his head out the door and asked her politely to fetch some specific healing herbs from the Herb Depository. Fortunately, she had known where that was, and every single type of plant he had requested, so she had run to fetch them – and now here she was, standing outside a room and waiting anxiously for news of the younger Peredhil twin. Elrohir, she thought to herself, wondering how the name would roll right off her tongue when she said it. It was strange, that she was more . . . drawn to him than his older, more out-going brother. When she first met the twins, she had trouble telling them apart, but now she couldn't believe that had happened. They were so different! Elrohir was slightly more thoughtful, and seemed to think more about what he did before he did; Elladan would just jump into things. If she had any confusion about who was who, she would just look into their eyes. Whenever she gazed into Elrohir's attentive grey eyes, she could see the . . . affection? directed at her. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but she thought he might find her interesting, at the least. She definitely found him interesting. Well, Ioreth decided, she had to tamp down her attraction – Lord Elrond obviously wouldn't approve of his son courting a simple elleth from Greenwood.

Court! Where had that thought come from? Startled, Ioreth reevaluated her thoughts. It was far too early to even think about courting – she had barely met Elrohir! Ioreth frowned as she tried to catch stray thoughts. Before coming here, to Imladris, she had never thought about a specific male courting her. Oh, she had plenty ideas of marriage and elflings, and even ellyn friends, most warriors in the Greenwood Guard, but she'd never been asked or ever considered accepting an offer. What a ridiculously petty thing the heart was, Ioreth decided, and left it at that.

She was further distracted by the sounds of arguing coming from down the hall, coming closer. Listening carefully, Ioreth made out that it was Lord Elrond's adviser – Erestor! Why did she keep thinking of him as just the adviser? – and Glorfindel. Her ears tinged red when she realized she had been spying on the famed Balrog-slayer. She immediately jerked her attention away from the conversation, but when the two rounded the corner, she couldn't help but hear what they were talking about.

"It's not a fool joke, Erestor," Glorfindel was insisting to the adviser walking beside him.

Erestor just glided smoothly over the floor, prim and proper, but barely reaching the warrior's shoulders beside him. No one would have ever guessed that they were friends, since they were complete opposite in looks and personality. Erestor was dark-haired and brown-eyed, with a pale complexion, while Glorfindel had tumbling waves of golden locks and bright blue eyes that glittered as he spoke. Erestor was slender, while Glorfindel was relatively broad-shouldered for an elf. Ah, and the differences went on and on, and yet they tolerated each other.

"To amuse myself," Glorfindel would excuse himself for befriending the adviser, but Erestor said, "For the sake of Imladris, the Captain of the Guard and the Chief Counselor must put up with each other." So they got along, but right now Ioreth knew none of that. She just knew that they were arguing.

"You expect me to believe that Elrohir exploded into light, then came back together?" Erestor's tone of voice made Glorfindel's former statements sound ridiculous.

"No, no," the Balrog-slayer tried to explain. "That's not what happened. It was his eyes. They were glowing a white color, then it got bigger and bigger until – foom!" To emphasize his point, Glorfindel flung his arms out dramatically. Erestor had to stop in his tracks to keep from being smacked in the face by a wild left arm. When the Elda lowered his arms sheepishly, Erestor sniffed and continued walking toward Ioreth, who was trying her best not to listen, but failing miserably. After all, the conversation was apparently about Elrohir; of course she had to listen.

"White, the opposite of Elladan's black eyes?" Erestor asked somewhat disbelievingly, yet Glorfindel nodded suddenly and eagerly. "Yes, it's exactly like that!"

"Then you are saying that Elladan's eyes turn black and he goes on a murderous rampage when that happens – and it started when you were chasing him around the courtyard –"

Glorfindel snorted at that, but Erestor continued, "– and he fell and hit his head. And this afternoon, you came upon them, Elrohir died –"

Ioreth couldn't hold back a gasp at that, but fortunately the nearing elves didn't hear her.

" – but he . . . his eyes glowed white, the opposite of Elladan's, who were black, and then it all exploded and his wounds were magically healed," Erestor concluded. Glorfindel had been nodding eagerly through the whole thing, but a slight frown marred his brow.

Erestor gave the Balrog-slayer a disbelieving look. "How am I supposed to believe that?"

Glorfindel huffed in frustration. "Stubborn Noldo!"

"Pig-headed Elda," was the immediate retort, and then both of them unexpectedly noticed Ioreth trying to be unobtrusive, standing to the side.

Erestor seemed flustered at being overheard, but Glorfindel just smiled charmingly at her. "Well met, Lady Ioreth – again."

Her face matched the pink shade of Erestor's; she hadn't wanted them to know she was accidentally listening on them, but she managed a smile of her own. "Well met, my lords."

Glorfindel chuckled at the title, but glanced at Erestor. "Stay here and watch for . . . intruders. I'm going to check on the pennyth." As he had hoped, Erestor's embarrassment faded and he scowled at the Elda. "I can go in if I wish."

"Suit yourself." Glorfindel opened the door and vanished inside, shutting it back behind him.

Erestor looked like he was going to follow, but took in a deep breath and stepped back against the wall, next to Ioreth. He waited a moment, and then glanced over at Ioreth, who was pointedly looking at the floor. "Lady Ioreth?"

She looked up with a somewhat guilty look. Erestor smiled slightly to alleviate her worry, and gestured toward the room now containing Elrond, his twin sons, and Glorfindel. "He's not the delightful figure all the tales make him out to be – he's actually an annoying, infuriating elf. Don't be fooled by his charms."

Ioreth knew he meant Glorfindel, but she found what the adviser had said hard to believe, so she just nodded demurely. Erestor looked resigned that no one would ever believe him, and just shifted his gaze to the door opposite him, waiting for someone to call him. He didn't have long to wait.

First Erestor sensed a strange shift of power all around him. Maybe just air, but it felt like the force of the ground below him, the strength of the stones in the halls, the might of the air was being pulled into the Healing Room before him. Just after he noticed that, he heard a call from Glorfindel coming from the same room.

"Erestor, get in here!"

Sensing the urgency in the order, Erestor decided not to snap at the Elda for telling him what to do again, and moved forward to push the door open. As soon as he had, he knew why Glorfindel had yelled for him.

Elrond stood by his younger son's bed, confusion written on his face, Glorfindel beside him. They both stared at Elrohir, which drew Erestor's gaze to the cot as well. At first he didn't notice, he just saw the white clothes he wore, but then his eyes caught on the disruption.

Right underneath his skin, like some kind of strange blood, silvery light flowed through his veins. Elrohir's pale skin was illuminated with the still-slight glow, but his grey eyes were unseeing as they stared up at the ceiling. A ripple ran through the light, and it increased faintly, and pulsed like a heartbeat. Tendrils of it shimmered up his neck and through odd designs drawing themselves on his neck, and the other ends vanished down into the white shirt he wore.

"It . . . wasn't there a moment ago," Erestor heard Lord Elrond say helplessly, reaching for his son and then drawing back in concern. Glorfindel looked over his shoulder at Elladan, who lay in the other cot a dozen feet away. Erestor followed his gaze, but the elder twin lay peacefully with no sign of strange lights on him.

Ioreth appeared in the door behind them and her eyes widened visibly catching sight of Elrohir, but Erestor was too occupied to shoo her away, like he should have done. Instead he blinked slowly, then asked Glorfindel, "Is this what you were talking about?" His calm tone hid his shock and nervousness, as he had practiced for so long.

"Yes, but –" Glorfindel hesitated, still watching Elrohir, "– there was more of it, and it was in his eyes. And then it blasted everywhere and knocked me out for a moment."

"What are you talking about?" Elrond asked absent-mindedly, his eyes following the paths the lights traced over Elrohir's features.

At the same time, Erestor hissed, "You didn't tell me you were unconscious!"

Glorfindel didn't answer either of them, but leaned slightly closer to stare into Elrohir's listless eyes – he was obviously still asleep, which confused the Elda further. Was he really asleep, or was he pretending? The Balrog-slayer hated to admit it, but he had no idea what to think, and didn't know what he should do. What to do was chosen for him in the next moment, when Elrohir stiffened abruptly.

"Oh, raich." Glorfindel sucked in a nervous breath and then his fears came true seconds later.

Muscles tightened, then suddenly Elrohir jerked, his legs flying out and back arching as if in pain. His mouth opened but no sound came out, and his eyes remained dull in sleep. Immediately, Glorfindel grabbed the twin's legs and pressed down with all his might. Elrond moved swiftly as well, grabbing one of Elrohir's arms and holding it to the bed.

Erestor just stood there dumbly for a moment, but shot into action when Glorfindel snapped, "Come on, help!" He moved around the cot and snatched Elrohir's flailing left arm and shoved it down, almost being thrown off by the thrashing the twin was doing.

Glorfindel was horribly reminded of what had happened earlier that day, when Elrohir had done the same thing. There were some differences, however – Elladan's eyes weren't crazily black and they were in Imladris – although he wasn't sure the latter was such a good thing, if they didn't know what was happening. Also, with a glance up at Elrohir's face, the light that had increased yesterday was just beating even more steadily through his veins. Maybe there wouldn't be any . . . explosions like earlier. Oh, he dearly hoped so.

Ioreth watched, forgotten, from the doorway, her eyes wide and mouth unconsciously dropped open in fright. She moved a step forward, wishing to help, but she knew her slender body wouldn't help them hold him down. Instead, she anxiously scanned Elrohir's face for any sign of recognition; she didn't understand what was happening, and it was obvious that neither did the other three ellyn holding the twin down.

"What's happening to him?" Lord Elrond snapped at Glorfindel finally; he had heard the last part of the conversation between his Captain and Chief Counselor and assumed they knew something.

After almost getting kicked back to the wall, Glorfindel attained a firm grip on Elrohir's legs and sank down, pulling them snug with the bed as the twin convulsed. "I don't know!" he called to Elrond. "This kind of happened this afternoon – I was going to tell you, but you were sort of busy watching after them! I was just coming to give my report –" He was cut off by a wild kick to his stomach that knocked the air out of his lungs, but he held on determinedly.

At the reminder that Elladan was in the room, Ioreth glanced quickly over to see what the elder twin was doing. He was just lying there, still staring blankly at the ceiling, at least noticeably unaware of his brother's distress. Ioreth snapped her gaze back to Elrohir to see if he had calmed down at all, worry eating at her.

"Ioreth!" Elrond said urgently, barely missing getting hit in the head when Erestor's grip on Elrohir's other arm slipped. The adviser quickly amended his mistake, pulling the flailing limb back down firmly to the other side of the bed.

Ioreth snapped to attention. "Yes, my lord?"

Elrond was suddenly very glad that the elleth was in this room. He didn't really want her to see what was happening to his son – especially as he didn't even know what it was – but since she was here, she could help immensely. "Hand me that tea I started!"

Ioreth's gaze caught almost immediately on the pack of herbs she had just brought in, and the tea that was being brewed. She moved swiftly, pouring the steaming liquid into a cup, and then added some more water to cool it down. Hurrying over to Lord Elrond, she held the drink out for him to take.

He did take it, but first passed Elrohir's arm off to Erestor, who was having a hard enough time keeping down one arm while Elrohir still jerked and writhed under the firm pressure of their hands. Grabbing Elrohir's chin, he forcefully pulled it up and pried his jaw open.

Ioreth gasped when Lord Elrond tipped the cup in his other hand and poured the contents of the cup down his son's throat. He closed Elrohir's mouth and pressed the younger twin's pale lips together, then massaged his neck, forcing the twin to swallow the mixture. Within seconds, he was calming down visibly, the wild thrashing stopping.

Elrohir slumped back to the bed, tremors still running up and down his arms and legs. Glorfindel kept his grip, but loosened it somewhat in case something else happened. Warily, Erestor released the younger twin's arms and let him fall back to the sheets. Grey eyes were still half-lidded and staring at the ceiling, asleep yet not asleep.

Lord Elrond let out a sigh and placed the cup to the side, moving forward and bending over to place his hands on each side of Elrohir's head. After a moment, his brow creased and he frowned, seeming to concentrate harder. Nothing happened, but that Elrohir completely relaxed, his limbs lying slack on the bed sheets. Ioreth had to force herself not to move forward, her natural worrying tendencies surfacing. None of the ellyn in the room spared her a look, so preoccupied they were on Elrohir. She didn't realize it, but she had barely looked at Glorfindel once this whole time, her attention focused only on Elrohir.

"What . . . was that all about?" Glorfindel finally said, gasping.

"All I can find is that he's struggling inside his mind," Elrond finally said, pulling his hands away and gesturing for Glorfindel to release the twin. "There is something pushing me out, something . . . powerful. I can't contact him; I don't even know if he was aware that I was trying."

"That light-thingy is still going," Erestor commented wearily, his usual fluid speech abandoning him. Indeed, the small lines were still rippling up and down Elrohir's face, neck, and the part of the torso that was visible, but it looked like it was fading somewhat.

Glorfindel leaned closer to examine. "It is going away. Do you suppose this is temporary?" he asked to no one in particular. He glanced at Elrond, though, which is why he was unprepared for what happened next.

Erestor's eyes widened in shock and he scrabbled backwards quickly, starting to call out a warning to Glorfindel, when the Balrog-slayer was hit violently in the chest by something white, glowing, and felt like a powerful fist. He was flung backwards and smashed into the table that held the tea, utterly destroying it. The cup, herbs, and pot crashed onto the floor, and Glorfindel sat there stunned, while a white glow hummed around the point of impact on his chest.

Lord Elrond and Erestor – Ioreth was staring with wide eyes at Elrohir – spun to their friend, concern rushing to them. Erestor managed to make it to him first, and promptly delivered a slap to the side of the Elda's head.

"Are you okay?"

Glorfindel groaned. Typical response of an adviser who couldn't just ask instead of hitting! "Ugh, stop it, Erestor. I'm fine." The partial ivory glow from the hit was disappearing already, and he just felt like – hmm, like he had been punched in the chest by a giant hand. He was lucky some ribs weren't broken, though he could tell at least one was cracked slightly. He ignored it though, and accepted Elrond's hand to his feet, looking worriedly at Elrohir. "Did you see that, Elrond? Where did it come from?"

Elrond hesitated, and then slowly said, "It was like a ball of pure light . . . coming from Elrohir's fingertips. He threw it straight at you, though it didn't look at all intentional, since his eyes were barely even open."

Ioreth had seen the whole thing. The strange glowing in Elrohir's face had suddenly traveled down into his right arm, then his hand, and finally into his fingertips until the appendages beamed brightly. Then, light danced between his fingers and formed an odd-shaped ball. Elrohir, with his still blank eyes, then threw it into the air. Ioreth didn't think he had been aiming for anyone, though; it just looked like he was . . . practicing something? She wasn't sure, and the horrible possibilities of what this could mean terrified her. Was he going to die? Was this something elves did when they faded? She could think of nothing else that could be happening.

Her confusion was interrupted by a shout from both Glorfindel and Erestor.

"It's happening again!" called Erestor frantically, and he was right. The light danced down his fingertips, blazed brightly, the arm pulled back a little, then threw the glowing ball.

"Move!" Glorfindel yelled, seeing the sphere heading straight for Ioreth. She ducked immediately, but it was needless, since the thing just smashed into the rock above the doorway. There was a moment of silence, where Elrohir dropped back, listless, to his cot, then the whole top of the door crumbled. Ioreth stood for a moment stupidly, then skittered backwards, realizing she should have moved sooner.

Her mistake was made obvious when one of the chunks of rock slammed into her forehead, just above the right eye. A burning pain shot through her head, and she immediately collapsed among the rubble of the door.

Inside the room, Elrohir sank into a deep slumber; Elladan was still peacefully – apparently – dreaming away; Lord Elrond and Glorfindel lunged forward to help Ioreth; and Erestor's face turned white as snow and he froze in abject fright.

"Hold her head," Elrond ordered, jumping into action and brushing bits of rock dust and shards of stone off her shoulders. To Erestor he cast over his shoulder, "Watch Elrohir, and don't let him move."

Turning right away to obey his Lord, Erestor moved to Elrohir's bedside and looked down at the pale fair face, then back at Ioreth, who was now completely unconscious. He couldn't help but wonder what Elrohir's reaction would be when he woke up and either remembered what happened or he was told.

Erestor wasn't looking forward to that conversation.


	15. A Like Mind

Elrond glanced over at the silent figure of Erestor for a moment, then back at his sons. Elrohir still sat with Elladan collapsed in his lap, and their hands were intertwined; the younger twin stared off into the distance with his eerie white eyes.

Time didn't really exist in these sorts of mind bonds, so there was no knowing how long the two would be locked into it. Maybe only another minute, although it might even be hours – that would be extreme, however.

"We are switching," came a sudden announcement from Elrohir. He didn't move after that, just continued gripping his twin's hand.

Switching? Lord Elrond mused. Ah, that must mean Elrohir was now going to go over into Elladan's mind and discover what this…darkness was. Erestor moved slightly from the corner, taking a step forward, but he didn't go any further than that.

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::Wait! No, Elladan!:: Elrohir tried frantically to pull back the surge of power that was roaring into Elladan's fëa, but it wouldn't let him this time. It slipped through his grasp, twisting around him, then smashing into Elladan. He could hear his brother howling in pain, trying to retreat before the mental onslaught, but it didn't recede. It just followed him, pushing him out of Elrohir's mind, then going after Elladan right into his own mind.

When Elrohir tried to slide after them, a burst of light sent him reeling back in shock, and he flew into the walls of his mind. He regained his control a moment later and flew after them, breaking into the courtyard of the opening of his mind, out of the last barriers, then straight into the now-defenseless area of his twin's mind.

What he found was a disaster. His own mind left behind for now, Elrohir evaded flying memories and thoughts, finally finding Elladan's presence cowering in an abandoned room. Light and fury flew past them in all directions, trying to find the evasive darkness that slid around corners and away.

::Elladan! What happened?::

::I was going to ask you that:: Elladan was curled up in the edge of the room, holding his partially-formed arms over his head for protection of the brightness that was burrowing into him.

Elrohir swirled his presence into an almost physical barrier and stood between the attack and his brother, forcing it to either hit him or retreat. It chose to retreat, pulling back slightly but still close enough to hit if Elrohir so much as moved.

::I don't know if that's a good idea:: Elladan peeked out, then went back into his cower.

::No, Elladan. I also would like to know:: Turning, Elrohir let his back face the roiling light, knowing that it would ultimately still obey him. ::Where is the…darkness? The only way to –::

He was cut off by a snapping noise from the light. It was telling him something…something that was…hiding in the –

::Never mind:: Elrohir turned again and moved forward into the radiation, letting it overwhelm him and leaving Elladan defenseless. But it didn't attack him again; the light just embraced Elrohir and moved with him as he left that part of his brother's mind.

Elladan sat up, sending cautious tendrils of thought to make sure it was really gone. It was, he knew, from here – but it was with Elrohir, and they both were going toward the darkest recesses of his mind. His darkest memories…

Before he could even move out of the room to go after his younger brother, he felt an odd tugging sensation in the side of his mind. Like something was breaking into – no, out of his mind. It was dark, sharp, and it hurt. Ripping away layer after layer of the protective barriers in his mind, it grew closer toward the open space of…his body. Once it made it out of his mind, it would take over his body!

Terror spurring him on, Elladan sped through the halls of his mind.

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

Elrond hated waiting. It wasn't a good trait for an elf. Though he could blame it on his Peredhil heritage, the simple fact was that he never liked sitting or standing around while something important was happening. Well…maybe it wasn't that he was impatient, but that he didn't enjoy being left out of things. Yes, that had to be it.

Unlike Elrond, his Chief Counselor was the perfect example of patience. No matter that he looked like a boring, black-clad, kind-of-short elf sometimes, Erestor's stride never faltered; his speech was always fluid and perfect; his rebuttals in Council were always perfect and well-thought. Elrond was, of course, still half-elf, so he retained the best characteristics of both races in his heritage, but it was still a struggle for him to sit hours on end either writing reports and paperwork or debating matters with his other advisers.

The only reason all of these complicated thoughts were going through Elrond's mind at the moment was because Erestor was standing in the corner of the room nearest the door, looking like the epitome of grace and endurance while Elrond practically fidgeted in his seat waiting for his sons to break the mind bond and explain to him just why Elladan had looked so terrible and black-eyed in the courtyard earlier, while Glorfindel said that Elrohir had apparently exploded with light. What did that even mean?!

"Ada!"

Elrond's gaze snapped to Elrohir, who had just spoken in a startled voice. The younger twin's eyes had changed, no longer the blinding white they were a few moments ago. Now they were a startling mix of complete and utter darkness, and swirls of pure light.

"Take him, Ada!" Elrohir cried, loosening his grip on Elladan. Elrond immediately jumped forward to catch the elder brother before he hit the floor, pulling him back away from Elrohir. Erestor had moved away from the wall toward them, but he paused, assessing the situation.

Elladan appeared to be completely unconscious, though the twins were no longer in contact and the mind bond had broken. His eyes were closed tightly, as if he was in pain, and his whole body trembled slightly. Elrond lifted him and set him on the bed right beside where Elrohir still sat.

Elrohir, meanwhile, was sitting straight up, staring at the wall opposite him, while cold light and dark warred in his eyes, swirling and clashing. Not one hint of his usually grey eyes came through, just the heated black and the illumination.

"Elrohir…" Elrond, holding his oldest son securely, stared at the younger twin in shock. For a moment, the blackness in Elrohir's eyes receded and he seemed to look straight at his father. "Ada," he whispered, "…get him out of here."

Elrond watched for a long moment before he shot to his feet, a limp shivering Elladan in his arms. "No, Elrohir! What is happening? What are you doing?"

"Get…him out…" Elrohir pulled his legs up and buried his face in them, hiding those terrible mixing eyes from view. "Please…"

Elrond battled with himself, trying to decide what to do. Should he obey the twin, taking his brother out of the room and leaving him, or should he keep Elladan in here? The only reason Elrohir would want his elder twin to leave, though, would be to protect one of them, so his choice was obvious. Elrond slid his arms under Elladan, who still trembled, and lifted him, backing toward the door.

"Watch Elrohir," Elrond ordered Erestor, whose dark eyes flicked toward him and then back to Elrohir. "I will be back in a moment!" He ducked out the door and hurried down the hall with his unconscious son. He would get Elladan a safe distance away, then return right away!

Erestor watched cautiously as Elrohir shuddered violently. "Penneth," he started, but Elrohir's head snapped up at the noise and his teeth bared viciously. His eyes were a terrifying black, no hint of light, and his face a stark pale. "No!" he snarled, and leapt to his feet, reminding the adviser eerily of Elladan earlier in the courtyard when he had gone partially insane and Glorfindel had to knock him out.

Erestor jerked backwards in shock when the younger twin jumped at him, hands outstretched and face in a ferocious growl. The movement startled the adviser too much for him to dodge out of the way when Elrohir grabbed his throat and slammed him violently into the wall. Erestor's head smacked against the stone wall and a sharp pain spun through him, causing his vision to blur and his knees to weaken.

Erestor faintly felt the firm hands at his neck, cutting off his air and pushing him brutally into the wall. Then a second later, the pressure was gone and his sight returned to see Elrohir backing away, his eyes flickering back and forth from a gleaming white to a roiling darkness. Erestor coughed, reaching up to his neck; his head spinning dizzily.

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

KILL.

No! He is a friend! A mentor!

MUST KILL. NOT FRIEND. ENEMY. ALL ARE ENEMIES!

Friend! Elrohir jerked the control of his body fiercely back from the commanding darkness he had literally ripped from his brother's mind. It had taken little effort with the controlling light of his own, but now the terrible shadows were trying to take over his own mind and body! The thing had just been trying to kill Erestor, who was now staring at him with wide brown eyes, his own slender hands to his throat where Elrohir had tried to strangle him.

KILL. The darkness tried to wrest power back, but Elrohir pulled forward the light under his command and smashed into it, unaware that the mental battle was causing the turmoil in his eyes. KILL!

No!

ALL ARE ENEMIES! KILL NOW!

NO!

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

"What do you think has happened to Elrohir?" Ioreth asked Glorfindel, seeing that the Balrog-slayer's eyes had darted toward the open door of the dining hall. She had piled her plate with food and sat at a table with the warrior, but now she was finding that she literally couldn't eat because of her worry. Her stomach declared that it was hungry, but it rolled threateningly whenever she raised a bite to her lips.

Glorfindel shrugged at her question. "Many things are a possibility," he said cryptically, and glanced at her, admiring her delicate features and soft strawberry-blonde hair. She wasn't a real beauty, but she had her own natural attractiveness. He decided not to flirt outrageously with her though – he had seen the looks Elrohir had given her. She was definitely 'taken,' even if she – or Elrohir – didn't know it yet.

"Oh," Ioreth finally said when Glorfindel didn't say anymore. She bit her lower lip nervously and twisted her fork in her roasted venison and onions, with apples and spice on the side. It smelled delicious, but she just couldn't eat it. Glorfindel, on the other hand, was quite normally chewing down on his own food. She hesitated, then looked over at Glorfindel again. "Will…will he be okay, do you suppose?"

"Of course," said Glorfindel, forgetting that he was talking to a lady and that she hadn't really known much of the Peredhil brothers. "They get hurt almost once a week, and mortally injured at least twice a year." When Ioreth paled, he added quickly, "But Elrohir is the more sensible one. He's more interested in healing, not battling…" And then he had to spoil it by continuing with one more word, "usually."

"Oh," said Ioreth again, her voice a squeak this time. She forced herself to take a bite of the venison and swallowed it with a lump in her throat, then took a large sip of her drink. Her face suddenly became worried once more. "What if Elladan gets all crazy again when they're in the room with him?"

"I'm sure they'll be fine," Glorfindel reassured her, then his own blue eyes narrowed. "I…think."

"What if Elrohir is hurt again?" Ioreth yelped, the image of him lying limp on a bed, covered in blood popping into her head.

"I hope he'll be fine," Glorfindel added, not at all helping.

Ioreth gasped and clasped her hands over her mouth. "What if he hits his head like Elladan did? What if he gets those scary black eyes?!"

"I'll go make sure nothing is happening," Glorfindel announced, standing to his feet and leaving the room. As soon as he was out of sight of the anxious elleth, he broke into a run.

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

"Elrohir…" Erestor coughed once and focused his dark eyes on the wavering form of the younger Peredhil twin, who was backing away from him, the light and darkness battle still going on in his eyes. "Penneth?"

"Don't touch me!" Elrohir warned, then the void snapped into his eyes for a full moment and he snarled, his face contorting; the white smashed back into his eyes a moment later and he stumbled backwards, shaking his head. He almost fell over the bed he had been lying on earlier, but banged into the wall and retreated toward the corner of the room. He made it to the very corner, then fell, his legs pulled close and his arms held protectively over his head. Only a small portion of his eyes were visible, still changing from that awful black to the blinding white, back and forth, again and again.

It made Erestor even dizzier than he already was. His head pounded weakly, recovering from the short lack of oxygen, and he knew his throat was going to flaunt bruises the next day. Elrohir was evidently dangerous, those strange light seeming to change his moods every few seconds. Observe, then, that was what Erestor had to do. He moved backwards, his black robes rustling around his ankles, until he reached the open door and he fumbled behind him for a moment before he swung it closed. If this… 'discrepancy' was dangerous, then Elrohir could not be let out of the room, else he might do something hazardous to other's health. And that was in the mildest way possible.

Erestor kept his back to the wall, watching Elrohir tremble in the corner, obviously warring with himself. His dark head was bowed, knees pulled up to his chest and hands gripping opposite shoulders. Time seemed to be thrumming oddly, a keening noise echoic throughout the room and resounding in Erestor's ears. He wondered briefly if Elrohir could hear it as well.

Then came the fall of footsteps outside the door. There were two people approaching the room, from different ends of the hallway, and from the weight and placement of their feet, Erestor surmised that it was Glorfindel and Elrond.

Should he let them in? What would Elrohir do if his father and the Captain of the Guard came into the room as well? Would he attack again?

Erestor, annoyingly, couldn't think of the answer to any of those questions. He was spared from thinking too hard on it when both people halted outside the door and a knock was heard.

"Erestor?" He heard Elrond's voice, calm but a tinge of worry lying beneath the surface. "Elrohir? Let me in."

Erestor barely saw the item coming, and he ducked immediately before it could hit him. The lamp crashed above his head, and fragments of glass and ceramic rained around him. Flinching away from the onslaught, Erestor moved aside to avoid stepping on the sharp pieces and shot a glance at Elrohir. It was he who had thrown the item, now glaring balefully at the door with pure icy black eyes. The next moment a swirl of white combated the cold blackness, and he wailed, curling in on himself and covering his head with his arms.

"What's going on in there?" came Glorfindel's voice, demanding yet worried as well. He pounded on the door, but Erestor didn't answer for fear of setting Elrohir off again.

"Erestor, let us in," Elrond ordered, then he seemed to gasp lightly. "Erestor? Are you well?"

"I am fine," Erestor hissed through the door, hoping that Elrohir hadn't heard. The younger twin didn't, apparently, but instead seemed to be shivering wildly, his head pulled down once more and his eyes out of sight.

"What is happening, and why is the door shut?" Elrond asked, understanding the need for quietness and whispering his question.

"Just give us a minute," was all Erestor would say, deciding that it would take too long to explain everything. He could do it later. Meanwhile, he turned his sharp gaze to Elrohir and watched for any slight movement that would betray another attack.


	16. One Released, One Ensnared

Elrond glanced over at the silent figure of Erestor for a moment, then back at his sons. Elrohir still sat with Elladan collapsed in his lap, and their hands were intertwined; the younger twin stared off into the distance with his eerie white eyes.

Time didn't really exist in these sorts of mind bonds, so there was no knowing how long the two would be locked into it. Maybe only another minute, although it might even be hours – that would be extreme, however.

"We are switching," came a sudden announcement from Elrohir. He didn't move after that, just continued gripping his twin's hand.

Switching? Lord Elrond mused. Ah, that must mean Elrohir was now going to go over into Elladan's mind and discover what this…darkness was. Erestor moved slightly from the corner, taking a step forward, but he didn't go any further than that.

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

::Wait! No, Elladan!:: Elrohir tried frantically to pull back the surge of power that was roaring into Elladan's fëa, but it wouldn't let him this time. It slipped through his grasp, twisting around him, then smashing into Elladan. He could hear his brother howling in pain, trying to retreat before the mental onslaught, but it didn't recede. It just followed him, pushing him out of Elrohir's mind, then going after Elladan right into his own mind.

When Elrohir tried to slide after them, a burst of light sent him reeling back in shock, and he flew into the walls of his mind. He regained his control a moment later and flew after them, breaking into the courtyard of the opening of his mind, out of the last barriers, then straight into the now-defenseless area of his twin's mind.

What he found was a disaster. His own mind left behind for now, Elrohir evaded flying memories and thoughts, finally finding Elladan's presence cowering in an abandoned room. Light and fury flew past them in all directions, trying to find the evasive darkness that slid around corners and away.

::Elladan! What happened?::

::I was going to ask you that:: Elladan was curled up in the edge of the room, holding his partially-formed arms over his head for protection of the brightness that was burrowing into him.

Elrohir swirled his presence into an almost physical barrier and stood between the attack and his brother, forcing it to either hit him or retreat. It chose to retreat, pulling back slightly but still close enough to hit if Elrohir so much as moved.

::I don't know if that's a good idea:: Elladan peeked out, then went back into his cower.

::No, Elladan. I also would like to know:: Turning, Elrohir let his back face the roiling light, knowing that it would ultimately still obey him. ::Where is the…darkness? The only way to –::

He was cut off by a snapping noise from the light. It was telling him something…something that was…hiding in the –

::Never mind:: Elrohir turned again and moved forward into the radiation, letting it overwhelm him and leaving Elladan defenseless. But it didn't attack him again; the light just embraced Elrohir and moved with him as he left that part of his brother's mind.

Elladan sat up, sending cautious tendrils of thought to make sure it was really gone. It was, he knew, from here – but it was with Elrohir, and they both were going toward the darkest recesses of his mind. His darkest memories…

Before he could even move out of the room to go after his younger brother, he felt an odd tugging sensation in the side of his mind. Like something was breaking into – no, out of his mind. It was dark, sharp, and it hurt. Ripping away layer after layer of the protective barriers in his mind, it grew closer toward the open space of…his body. Once it made it out of his mind, it would take over his body!

Terror spurring him on, Elladan sped through the halls of his mind.

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

Elrond hated waiting. It wasn't a good trait for an elf. Though he could blame it on his Peredhil heritage, the simple fact was that he never liked sitting or standing around while something important was happening. Well…maybe it wasn't that he was impatient, but that he didn't enjoy being left out of things. Yes, that had to be it.

Unlike Elrond, his Chief Counselor was the perfect example of patience. No matter that he looked like a boring, black-clad, kind-of-short elf sometimes, Erestor's stride never faltered; his speech was always fluid and perfect; his rebuttals in Council were always perfect and well-thought. Elrond was, of course, still half-elf, so he retained the best characteristics of both races in his heritage, but it was still a struggle for him to sit hours on end either writing reports and paperwork or debating matters with his other advisers.

The only reason all of these complicated thoughts were going through Elrond's mind at the moment was because Erestor was standing in the corner of the room nearest the door, looking like the epitome of grace and endurance while Elrond practically fidgeted in his seat waiting for his sons to break the mind bond and explain to him just why Elladan had looked so terrible and black-eyed in the courtyard earlier, while Glorfindel said that Elrohir had apparently exploded with light. What did that even mean?!

"Ada!"

Elrond's gaze snapped to Elrohir, who had just spoken in a startled voice. The younger twin's eyes had changed, no longer the blinding white they were a few moments ago. Now they were a startling mix of complete and utter darkness, and swirls of pure light.

"Take him, Ada!" Elrohir cried, loosening his grip on Elladan. Elrond immediately jumped forward to catch the elder brother before he hit the floor, pulling him back away from Elrohir. Erestor had moved away from the wall toward them, but he paused, assessing the situation.

Elladan appeared to be completely unconscious, though the twins were no longer in contact and the mind bond had broken. His eyes were closed tightly, as if he was in pain, and his whole body trembled slightly. Elrond lifted him and set him on the bed right beside where Elrohir still sat.

Elrohir, meanwhile, was sitting straight up, staring at the wall opposite him, while cold light and dark warred in his eyes, swirling and clashing. Not one hint of his usually grey eyes came through, just the heated black and the illumination.

"Elrohir…" Elrond, holding his oldest son securely, stared at the younger twin in shock. For a moment, the blackness in Elrohir's eyes receded and he seemed to look straight at his father. "Ada," he whispered, "…get him out of here."

Elrond watched for a long moment before he shot to his feet, a limp shivering Elladan in his arms. "No, Elrohir! What is happening? What are you doing?"

"Get…him out…" Elrohir pulled his legs up and buried his face in them, hiding those terrible mixing eyes from view. "Please…"

Elrond battled with himself, trying to decide what to do. Should he obey the twin, taking his brother out of the room and leaving him, or should he keep Elladan in here? The only reason Elrohir would want his elder twin to leave, though, would be to protect one of them, so his choice was obvious. Elrond slid his arms under Elladan, who still trembled, and lifted him, backing toward the door.

"Watch Elrohir," Elrond ordered Erestor, whose dark eyes flicked toward him and then back to Elrohir. "I will be back in a moment!" He ducked out the door and hurried down the hall with his unconscious son. He would get Elladan a safe distance away, then return right away!

Erestor watched cautiously as Elrohir shuddered violently. "Penneth," he started, but Elrohir's head snapped up at the noise and his teeth bared viciously. His eyes were a terrifying black, no hint of light, and his face a stark pale. "No!" he snarled, and leapt to his feet, reminding the adviser eerily of Elladan earlier in the courtyard when he had gone partially insane and Glorfindel had to knock him out.

Erestor jerked backwards in shock when the younger twin jumped at him, hands outstretched and face in a ferocious growl. The movement startled the adviser too much for him to dodge out of the way when Elrohir grabbed his throat and slammed him violently into the wall. Erestor's head smacked against the stone wall and a sharp pain spun through him, causing his vision to blur and his knees to weaken.

Erestor faintly felt the firm hands at his neck, cutting off his air and pushing him brutally into the wall. Then a second later, the pressure was gone and his sight returned to see Elrohir backing away, his eyes flickering back and forth from a gleaming white to a roiling darkness. Erestor coughed, reaching up to his neck; his head spinning dizzily.

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

KILL.

No! He is a friend! A mentor!

MUST KILL. NOT FRIEND. ENEMY. ALL ARE ENEMIES!

Friend! Elrohir jerked the control of his body fiercely back from the commanding darkness he had literally ripped from his brother's mind. It had taken little effort with the controlling light of his own, but now the terrible shadows were trying to take over his own mind and body! The thing had just been trying to kill Erestor, who was now staring at him with wide brown eyes, his own slender hands to his throat where Elrohir had tried to strangle him.

KILL. The darkness tried to wrest power back, but Elrohir pulled forward the light under his command and smashed into it, unaware that the mental battle was causing the turmoil in his eyes. KILL!

No!

ALL ARE ENEMIES! KILL NOW!

NO!

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

"What do you think has happened to Elrohir?" Ioreth asked Glorfindel, seeing that the Balrog-slayer's eyes had darted toward the open door of the dining hall. She had piled her plate with food and sat at a table with the warrior, but now she was finding that she literally couldn't eat because of her worry. Her stomach declared that it was hungry, but it rolled threateningly whenever she raised a bite to her lips.

Glorfindel shrugged at her question. "Many things are a possibility," he said cryptically, and glanced at her, admiring her delicate features and soft strawberry-blonde hair. She wasn't a real beauty, but she had her own natural attractiveness. He decided not to flirt outrageously with her though – he had seen the looks Elrohir had given her. She was definitely 'taken,' even if she – or Elrohir – didn't know it yet.

"Oh," Ioreth finally said when Glorfindel didn't say anymore. She bit her lower lip nervously and twisted her fork in her roasted venison and onions, with apples and spice on the side. It smelled delicious, but she just couldn't eat it. Glorfindel, on the other hand, was quite normally chewing down on his own food. She hesitated, then looked over at Glorfindel again. "Will…will he be okay, do you suppose?"

"Of course," said Glorfindel, forgetting that he was talking to a lady and that she hadn't really known much of the Peredhil brothers. "They get hurt almost once a week, and mortally injured at least twice a year." When Ioreth paled, he added quickly, "But Elrohir is the more sensible one. He's more interested in healing, not battling…" And then he had to spoil it by continuing with one more word, "usually."

"Oh," said Ioreth again, her voice a squeak this time. She forced herself to take a bite of the venison and swallowed it with a lump in her throat, then took a large sip of her drink. Her face suddenly became worried once more. "What if Elladan gets all crazy again when they're in the room with him?"

"I'm sure they'll be fine," Glorfindel reassured her, then his own blue eyes narrowed. "I…think."

"What if Elrohir is hurt again?" Ioreth yelped, the image of him lying limp on a bed, covered in blood popping into her head.

"I hope he'll be fine," Glorfindel added, not at all helping.

Ioreth gasped and clasped her hands over her mouth. "What if he hits his head like Elladan did? What if he gets those scary black eyes?!"

"I'll go make sure nothing is happening," Glorfindel announced, standing to his feet and leaving the room. As soon as he was out of sight of the anxious elleth, he broke into a run.

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

"Elrohir…" Erestor coughed once and focused his dark eyes on the wavering form of the younger Peredhil twin, who was backing away from him, the light and darkness battle still going on in his eyes. "Penneth?"

"Don't touch me!" Elrohir warned, then the void snapped into his eyes for a full moment and he snarled, his face contorting; the white smashed back into his eyes a moment later and he stumbled backwards, shaking his head. He almost fell over the bed he had been lying on earlier, but banged into the wall and retreated toward the corner of the room. He made it to the very corner, then fell, his legs pulled close and his arms held protectively over his head. Only a small portion of his eyes were visible, still changing from that awful black to the blinding white, back and forth, again and again.

It made Erestor even dizzier than he already was. His head pounded weakly, recovering from the short lack of oxygen, and he knew his throat was going to flaunt bruises the next day. Elrohir was evidently dangerous, those strange light seeming to change his moods every few seconds. Observe, then, that was what Erestor had to do. He moved backwards, his black robes rustling around his ankles, until he reached the open door and he fumbled behind him for a moment before he swung it closed. If this… 'discrepancy' was dangerous, then Elrohir could not be let out of the room, else he might do something hazardous to other's health. And that was in the mildest way possible.

Erestor kept his back to the wall, watching Elrohir tremble in the corner, obviously warring with himself. His dark head was bowed, knees pulled up to his chest and hands gripping opposite shoulders. Time seemed to be thrumming oddly, a keening noise echoic throughout the room and resounding in Erestor's ears. He wondered briefly if Elrohir could hear it as well.

Then came the fall of footsteps outside the door. There were two people approaching the room, from different ends of the hallway, and from the weight and placement of their feet, Erestor surmised that it was Glorfindel and Elrond.

Should he let them in? What would Elrohir do if his father and the Captain of the Guard came into the room as well? Would he attack again?

Erestor, annoyingly, couldn't think of the answer to any of those questions. He was spared from thinking too hard on it when both people halted outside the door and a knock was heard.

"Erestor?" He heard Elrond's voice, calm but a tinge of worry lying beneath the surface. "Elrohir? Let me in."

Erestor barely saw the item coming, and he ducked immediately before it could hit him. The lamp crashed above his head, and fragments of glass and ceramic rained around him. Flinching away from the onslaught, Erestor moved aside to avoid stepping on the sharp pieces and shot a glance at Elrohir. It was he who had thrown the item, now glaring balefully at the door with pure icy black eyes. The next moment a swirl of white combated the cold blackness, and he wailed, curling in on himself and covering his head with his arms.

"What's going on in there?" came Glorfindel's voice, demanding yet worried as well. He pounded on the door, but Erestor didn't answer for fear of setting Elrohir off again.

"Erestor, let us in," Elrond ordered, then he seemed to gasp lightly. "Erestor? Are you well?"

"I am fine," Erestor hissed through the door, hoping that Elrohir hadn't heard. The younger twin didn't, apparently, but instead seemed to be shivering wildly, his head pulled down once more and his eyes out of sight.

"What is happening, and why is the door shut?" Elrond asked, understanding the need for quietness and whispering his question.

"Just give us a minute," was all Erestor would say, deciding that it would take too long to explain everything. He could do it later. Meanwhile, he turned his sharp gaze to Elrohir and watched for any slight movement that would betray another attack.


End file.
